


Cold Walls, Cold Rooms.

by FancyKetchup



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - SCP Foundation, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Get it?, How Do I Tag, I dont know what i am doing, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, In a way, Injury, Lore - Freeform, Mentioned Characters, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Other, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, [DATA EXPUNGED], [REDACTED], i love lore, im new to this, long chapters, that is, writing here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyKetchup/pseuds/FancyKetchup
Summary: It's becoming suffocating to be here, in this cold stiff work place. Where everyone worked like ants in a colony. How did you do this? When did you think, "Maybe I don't want this." and when did they allow you to slip?Climbing your way up top was the plan.Keyword, "was".Here you are now, along with the other orange jumper people staring up at the Foundation.These orange suits are scratchy on your skin.
Relationships: SCP-049 (SCP Foundation)/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ███ █████ has always been a bit odd you think, they don't really act aggressively nor do they give you sneers.
> 
> So where did they go? You can't seem to recall if they were moved out of Site-██ but you're too scared to ask any of your team members to where ███ █████ went. . .
> 
> Maybe you shouldn't have looked into it.

Waking up each morning and day gets tiring to the soul. You should know this fact.

_(You've spent the last █ years waking up at exactly █AM just to make your bosses and the Foundation happy.)_

_(to notice that you do want to be here.)_

_(to record and work with who-knows-what SCPS)_

(you didn't)

[DATA EXPUNGED]

They had their own dorm area on site. Like those dorm rooms in your old college campus, where they were mostly stacked together in a building that reached to floor 5. You live in [REDACTED], where the more minor workers stay in. It's closest to the Foundation Site and sometimes at night you swear you can hear some of the more vocal SCPs making noise. (the sites are rough █ █████ away from your dorm, the Foundation claims you are at a safe distance and no harmful SCPs can escape)

(███████ ███ does not enforce their words.)

Your room was like any other room you assume, small and mostly white. The few colors you did own inside the cramped room was stone grey or your hair ties. Maybe one or two throw pillows as well, mostly tucked and hidden away in your hall closet somewhere. You weren't really allowed to bring much colors inside the sites. The day you moved into this place the dumpsters and fire pits where allowed to meet your colored items.  
"We have a store in Site-██." The [REDACTED] told you, with the visor reflecting the white lights too harshly in your eyes. The next week you swore one of the [REDACTED] had your green tie around one of their holsters.

(it was yours, but with your position? You have a better chance of staying alive in a room with SCP-096 then asking the [REDACTED] about the green tie)

The white stiff coats they gave everyone else was too comfy. It was good enough to keep cold drifts out and also when you step outside. That is, with given permission to be outside the site and in the mountain air. It was also thick enough for you to wear in the snow tops in the site. The Site-██ is both inside and outside of a snowy mountain, almost clinging onto the rocky sides. Every so often a earthquake would shake loose rocks and boulders off. You fear those days. Not only do you have to be careful with harmful; SCPs but also the place you live in. Every waking fear lives (against or not) inside the Foundation, some with the intent to kill certain people (or everything, as from what SCP-682 has shouted).

So with those loose rocks may or may not kill you also? You with with the idea that maybe you should've been more alert about the Foundation finding you.

Pulling on a soft wool sweater and the normal formal pants, (correctly fitted) you start the usual routine. Waking up, dressing for your work and lastly heading to the work. Which wasn't too import really, enough that the higher suits in this place has enough to replace every death in a few days. The rooms surrounding you were prime examples of that. Two weeks ago, █████ ████████ was torn in half by an experiment gone wrong.

(you weren't there thankfully, but from what the ones who were--they said the ones doing the experiment let poor ██████ get torn in half)

(For the protection of the world!)

_(For a reminder.)_

Now her place is homing another woman, she looks old. Like you're grandmother who used to talk gossip to your parents. She refuses to tell you her first name, "Just call me Mrs. Wicker." She would sneer at you. If only her nose was bigger, then she would look like an evil witch. But when you hear the satisfying slide of your key card locking your room you didn't get to do your usual nagging to the old sag of bones. It was just you and the white noise of the lights over head. The only thing you really liked in these sites are the retro fashion they put into everything.

They had tiles that were mostly white and pristine, with only patterned designs closer to the edge of the walls. Which where grey and held no design whatsoever and as you pass these boring walls you could only focus ahead of you really. Those cameras in these halls where blinking and being a eye in the walls to you and all the other people who live here with you. There was five on each floor, keeping a wide eye on every spot the suits wanted to keep watch on.

_(You ignore the ones inside your living space.)_

Taking the stairs down to the main floor of [REDACTED], you can make out the faint whispers and soft spoken words of your co-workers. All wearing the issued white lab coat and black shoes. Everyone here has different ages, the oldest live on the first floors. The youngest, unless given a higher key card, live the farthest from the main floors. Because everyone should stay fit in case a break out happens. That's why any type of high heeled shoes are banned from your place. But every so often, on late night ins you find those bland black heels sitting on your bed. No one wants to give you an answer to way they always show up when you throw them away. The cameras in your floor glance away. People shuffle just slightly away from you.

(You ignore all of this.)

But you make your way to your small team, titled Wales Reds, which only you and Nessie Duncan really call. They were huddle closer to the coffee machine, eyeing each person who walks up to either get a cup or a refill. 

"Good morning!" Called a few of your co-workers. The few that were all smiles and blank eyes in your team. Waving shortly at them you eyed the foam cups in their left hands. Always their left palms. "Hello, are we working on the same SCP?" You ask, voice more dialed back. Everyone was whispering and kept looking over their shoulders.

"Yes, yes! Dr.Patrick Hodge still needs us to work out some kinks. But the case is _which_ SCP?" A blonde informed you, her loud voice almost gone but her bright smile stuck to her tanned skin. She wore red lipstick today but her brown eyes looked like murky mud water. You wanted to ask her so badly, the urge to ask why everyone was huddled together like a pack of scared chickens. Why she kept glancing down at her bland heels. Why the team you were with was missing one person. The young guy who always kept his papers in a neat stack and would stare too long at the team leader's back. While her eyes, (Nessie, you force yourself to remember) doesn't speak a ounce of where ███ █████ went another team member's eyes did.

Her eyes were the dull murky shade that Nessie held. But when you look at her eyes this time, they were a bright brown they never been. Birdie Turner is one of the older members in your small team. "███ █████ got caught." She mumbled to you, Nessie tensed up and you didn't miss the way she threw fast looks to the cameras on the walls. "It's about time we meant up with Dr. Hodge." Birdie stated much louder, her arms horded your team outside, the cups of coffee and the stale smell of food would be skipped today for you. 

Not like you trust the drinks here and the food the suits gave [REDACTED]. Not that you really wanted to eat and drink from there,but there was no other way for you to _really_ get any other form of foods. Hell, as Birdie pushed you ahead, you definitely know that there is no way to use the higher-up's plots of dirt. "Hurry, hurry! We can't be late thanks to what happened this early morning." Birdie hissed out, her thin fingers dug into your spine and the way Nessie's face wincing up told you she felt the same. "Should I ask?" You called out, trying to twist your head to spot the peppered hair of Birdie. A sharp jab into your back and the clipped tone of Birdie answered you. 

"No and don't go looking into it really."

* * *

When you first meet Dr.Patrick Hodge, he was a tall lanky male that stood taller then most. He had his pale skin painting him as a ghastly human and his blue eyes never helped him look friendly. He was balding and it was talked that maybe his grey mustache is stealing his hair. But after he heard of that chat everyone on Wales Red got a loud talking too. His fingers held some rings from time to time, all a dulled gold with some carvings in them. 

You don't ask about them since he keeps his hands folded to often.

Even now, as you stand with your team you can still see the imposing and frightening look Dr.Patrick Hodge held in himself. His sharp nose made the whole ghastly image complete. "Very well, since all of you have made it." He started up, startling you a bit at how loud he was compared to the ones inside [REDACTED]. "Let us make our way over to the respective site." Then he lead the way. Nessie hung close behind Dr.Patrick Hodge's thin back. Like a monkey baby would do to it's mom. Birdie was making sure you and everyone else keep up.

Even Hodge had a coffee cup in his left hand.

You did not.

"As everyone is aware, a rather unfortunate event happened where a stack of papers was brought within SCP-2233's 1 km radius and caused the Site-142 a lot of problems." Dr. Hodge noted off, checking his tablet for any other notes added to his email. You never really got any emails, only the sparse spam email that recently has been kept under the Foundation's watchful eye. "But not to worry too much, MTF-Lambda-2 has already been dispatched to deal with SCP-2233, however the poor soul that brought the printed stack of paper within SCP-233's radius has yet to be dealt with." The sneer and the disgust in Dr. Hodge's voice worried you.

Will he do that same tone if you messed up as well? 

(Maybe it'll be best to brush up on the procedures of the SCPs in your routine. )

"Dr. Hodge?" Nessie started raising her hand up from her clipboard. "Will we be doing any debriefing thanks to the event SCP-2233 has caused?" Her hand shook, as if she was cold. But the hallways and empty rooms Dr. Hodge lead you through wasn't chilly enough to make one _cold._ So you can only chalk up Nessie's shaky hands to the info Dr. Hodge dropped on Wales Red suddenly and so early into the work.

"Who knows really, but I am sure we already know what the debriefing would be about anyways." He responded, not once had he glanced at the team following him. Only looking down to spot the key card slots for certain rooms and where the door buttons where at.

(always at waist level.)

(He carries a yellow card. Not golden.)

[DATA EXPUNGED]

[DATA EXPUNGED]

When Dr. Hodge finally had to glance at his team it was thanks to those sanitize rooms. Where groups filter inside a small room, the doors shut and vents blast sanitized air at everyone. You always hated those rooms, because the sanitize room becomes red and the air being blasted stings your eyes. "You may enter after the first team inside leaves. Thank you." The sanitize MTF mumbled out to Dr. Hodge, after a short ID card was flashed in the male's visor. "Anyways, what will be happening is that the MTF-Lamba-2 will be coming down to [REDACTED] to sanitize the area of all affected media. Whether if there is _any_ media affected here or not." Dr. Hodge waved his bony hand around and you traced it's movement. He went off, chatting the teams ear's off like some talkative bird.

You had a small understanding of what Dr. Hodge was saying, all your books, magazines, and other forms of printed media will be ransacked and sanitized. In case any SCP-2233-1 pops up. 

(you wondered what a SCP-2233-1 looks like, is it some form of human? Or like SCP-2233, a type of printed book?)

Once Wales Red was done listening to Dr. Hodge he gave us all a look, Nessie wasn't too happy over the look and Birdie looked as still as ever. These types of procedures were normal for her but to you and maybe Nessie these things where slightly jarring still. Not like the first time. Julian Ali was the first male on your time to speak up finally. With dull eyes and a frown he was the more snippy of all. "SCP-2233 is a class Keter is it not?" He asked but he didn't look to Dr. Hodge, but the MTF that was still standing by the closed doors. Not moving and just holding his gun and watching Wales Red.

You shuffled farther away from the MTF and choose not to react when your movement caught the MTF's eye. "Yes, but mostly because of how little time it takes for SCp-2233 to make a SCP-2233-1." Dr. Hodge answered Julian with a sneer, as if the team leader was challenged to his knowledge on SCP-2233. " You may step in." Finally, after a shocked look from Nessie the MTF opened the doors with his blue key card. "Be careful." He gave you a toothy grin and as you followed after your team you worried over why he had sharp teeth.

"Yes, thank you." Dr. Hodge had nodded to the MTF before the doors shut and the sanitizing is started. The strong air always gave you shivers and it's just unfair how Birdie and Julian look so unbothered by the whole thing. Nessie however was the same as you. "Dr. Hodge which SCP will we be working with today?" Birdie asked, keeping everything slightly loose on her close to her body and held down. "Oh well, let's see." Dr. Hodge blinked his eyes at the younger woman but you shrank and hid behind the taller woman.

As they chatted you kept your eyes shut or squinted so that the air doesn't make you tear up too badly. But you still hadn't recovered from the toothy grin the MTF gave you. The blue key card also haunted you a bit, mostly since if anything does happen to break it's containment that blue key card is the only one to bring you into safety really. Once the room changed to red and the air stopped blasting everyone no one moved. You moved to relax and open your eyes wider to watch everyone else. These rooms always took a little too long to open for your taste. And for some unknown reason everyone knew to not speak.

No words are allowed after the red light is turned on and nothing shall be said until everyone is on the other side.

(So that [DATA EXPUNGED]won't be able to listen in)

* * *

After every testing or glance over on a certain SCP that is in your circle you head out to the cafe area in the given sites. Yes, there is a lot of walking and stops with MTF staring too much and asking too much you knew better. They do this all for the safety of the world, even if you happen to find it slows your work down. But who are you to really speak up? You don't have a key card of any importance really, so you can only complain a little and _only_ if those cameras turn away from you.

But you were stuck in the filing rooms. All clustered together with some being on paper leafs and other's being logged into a tablet of sorts. Either way you were handed a small phone with only the note app working. "It holds the key codes for some of the tablets." was all you were told before being left alone to do the filing and the sorting. 

This wasn't a bad thing, it left you with the more safer job really. Where Keter class and Euclid class SCPs won't be really inclined to harm you. It also left you plenty of time to read into these SCP files that needed to be sorted. You even got to read more into the dealing of SCP-2233! There was a lot more info you could've read but once you read the part talking about affect printed paper you stashed the file away.

(You don't know if it was a SCP-2233-1 or not)

The small filing room you were attending to at the time smelled mostly of paper and danger. The latter part from all the SCPs in the class pool of Keter and Euclid. For better or worse, you can be thankful that if not all but most of these SCP files don't provide a photo of what these SCPs look like.

( however they do go into detail on what they look like)

Spending a total of 4 hours doing all sorts of filing and reading it finally hit you why no one from team Wales Red had gathered or helped you. They were doing a meeting, probably over the missing member. With a frown and a more forceful movement you placed SCP-2789's folder down and sat in those too big office chairs to think. Did they think you had no real info to provide them? Is that why they said, " _Fuck it, have ██████ be on file and sorting duty."_

But with the dust in the air and the white printed papers keeping you busy you can agree, yes. Yes, file and sorting duty is best suited for you because you had no real info to give. Nothing to spill over then the fact that [DATA EXPUNGED] would stare to long at Dr. Hodge way to often. [DATA EXPUNGED] wasn't a bad [REDACTED].. . .

But it must've caused such a problem that the Foundation decided to do. . .something. You're not too sure and all of these files you have to sort and read don't even mention a [DATA EXPUNGED] at all. Nothing has been dropped off yet and the clock isn't broken from what the charged tablets state either, so the matter of is what did this [DATA EXPUNGED] happen to do?

You're not too sure but something in the shadows these file cabinets cast prompt you back into work. Sorting and filing away SCP folders and reports of said SCPs. Even the eyes on the walls keep their gaze on your movements and when the hour hits the even 8 hour a MTF comes to fetch you away.

(They don't mention the report files they dropped off and you made it a point not to ask or glance that way either.)

Julian was the first person you see and he is the first person on your team to eye the way your posture sags. "Chin up, the suits won't like that." Is what he tells you before taking charge and leading you away from the MTF, who eyes your back before turning away. "Yes, all on me. Filing does take a toll on one's back." You mumbled taking in a breath of air before fixing your sagging back. "Everything went well?" You ask after Julian throws his cup away.

(he doesn't smell of coffee and you're not sure why that is.)

Your team member gives you a side eye as you two walk down the halls. Everything was quiet and soft inside the site building. "Yes, everything went well I guess. Who would've thought, ███ █████? Not me, but maybe someone else?" He mumbled rubbing his right elbow before tucking his hands away. You're a bit fearful when he says the ending bit and before you can even ask him on it Julian faces you in all his odd sharpness. "Maybe you? Did Birdie warn you of something earlier this morning?" He quizzed out suddenly halting his strut and forcing you to stop as well.

"Warn me? of ███ █████? " Your face scrunched up but the reminder of being in the site had you cooling your face just as fast. Julian wasn't so fooled however before he nodded his head but his eyes narrowed down at you. "Listen, ██████, I don't really want to be the one to drag you to the suits in our site." He started of keeping his posture still and his eyes looked so cold to you now. Even as you forced yourself to meet his gaze and had top keep any shuffling movement as still as you can. "But if Birdie knows anything about what ███ █████ had done or did do," Julian was quick, you noticed that ending, how he changed it to make seem liked ███ █████ wasn't able to go through with. . .whatever he did. "but you need to tell me, right now more like it. Dr. Hodge is already in a tense mood thanks to what happened."

(You end up not spilling the beans and no matter how much staring Julian Ali does to your back you cannot crumble under his peeks.)

(You don't crumble and he decides to leave you be. However every time Birdie and Julian have their backs turn to you and begin their own tense showdown you do in fact find out what ███ █████ was able to do)

_(You don't count the cameras in your dorm floor either. There are now 8 watchful eyes that pick out your form and watch you.)_

_(the camera in your living space does get noticed and you wonder when it became 3 and where those weird bland heels went too)_

_(Nessie doesn't greet you much either)_

You spent the rest of your days like that. Waiting for the MTF-Lambda-2 to bang their way inside and start their roles of sanitizing the area of all affected media. Even if it meant saying goodbye to your books and any other printed media you own. It won't matter, not in the eyes of MTF-Lambda-2 or SCP-2233-1. But you do wait for the days where Nessie would start greeting you again. The young woman had stopped telling you _"Good morning!"_ in that loud whisper of hers. Instead whenever you come down from your floor she looks away from you. Only you, now Julian Ali greets you with a loud cold, "Hello." and that's all he gives you. He then turns his back to you and starts to hand out everyone a cup of joe.

(no, no.. . .the Foundation mentioned to never say 'cup of joe' in the site-██ since there was a incident with a Professor named Joe and SCP-294)

(Poor Agent Joseph ██████, he had a cup full of blood, tissue and other bodily fluids. ...)

(Additional security measures for SCP-294 have been recommended.)

"What did you do?" Julian had asked you one morning, not the usual sharp 'hello.' and that worried you. What had you done? What does Julian mean by that. But his slanted eyes don't give an answer and Nessie wasn't looking your way. She held a cup of coffee in your right hand this time. "Oh, what do you mean?" You asked confused as to the sudden question for today. 

Julian had made it a habit, no matter where you may be working at the researcher would track you down and ask ask ask and just ask.

It could be about what you ate, why you never seem to grab a cup of coffee and sometimes about what ███ █████ had and had not done.

"I think you know." Julian answered pressing a cup of coffee in your hands. Your left hand and it was too hot to drink really. "Yes, I am sure you know then." Was all you gave to your few researcher. Nessie flinched before shuffling away from both you and Julian. "I don't like this talk," She cut in throwing a cup away. "Let us just head to Dr. Hodge! I don't want anything happening."

Wales Red knew what Nessie meant by that. After all ███ █████ was what happened.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't enjoy the sudden cold treatment Nessie gave you. She was becoming your friend in the start and suddenly she isn't.  
> Julian is looking unfairly nice too in this snow and you begin to wonder if that was a good idea to have at all.
> 
> Especially after this talk you will be having from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most SCP stories written here, (not saying they are any bad they are all nicely written in some form and then more) only talk or show case the more well known SCPs.  
> Now that isn't to say it's a bad thing. But in a world of many, many SCPs why wouldn't the other stories talk about the other SCPs?  
> Everyone knows about, 049, 096 and so on. So I'll try to add more minor and less talked about SCPs in some form.

You weren't ready for the MTF-Lambda-2 that Dr. Hodge was talking about. They came in like a storm and woke you up after only getting an hour of rest. They didn't react to your sleeping wear and as much as you _wanted_ to be embarrassed by the whole thing you really couldn't be. They've seen it all you guessed, with the way the blue security clearance card easily opened your door and the way they pulled you out of the white bed.

_(they weren't forceful overall, maybe a bit too much jostling for your taste but this is the Foundation and you don't get that warm waking the suits get on these things.)_

"We sent an email." The one MTF from Lambda-2 meant to watch you informed you. The two of you stood outside your room, in the retro white hallways. All cameras were staring at you. You think so at least but you don't react. "My email is mostly empty. Just a spam email or two really." You tell him. He wore black and white suits, body amour of some kind but the gun he has in his hands you are not really sure about. They all carry different guns and the few times you saw a high leveled MTF; they would carry a more scary gun.

They only have about 7 high leveled MTFs.

The Lambda-2 MTF doesn't react right away, like you think he would, instead all you get is-"Oh, well I am not really sure what to say then." He responded back, un-moving and not even glancing down at you. Just staring over your head, making sure you stay put. You don't move from your spot that the MTF-Lambda-2's left you in, only really moving your hands over your arms to keep warm. From the small window you can see down the hallway it is snowing once more. But the Lambda-2 MTF's inside were dry and without any showing of being outside.

That worried you a bit since, that is the only way inside [REDACTED]. You wanted to ask, how they got here and was it snowing outside when they drove here but none of those questions made their way outside. Instead you just stood there, hugging your arms and staring back at the MTF babysitting you. He didn't do much really and he looked like a trained dog with how well he stood still and kept a eye on you. 

He looked not human. 

Not living.

In your eyes.

* * *

At █AM you were allowed back inside, to start your work once more. They left the place mostly how it was. Some items were misplaced but otherwise the MTF-Lambda-2 did an okay job. Sadly, you did have to say goodbye to some of your books and other printed items. But once more, you were in no real power to get them back.

(like you were going to complain and pout over why the towels from your bathroom were in your closet now.)

Like everyday, for the past █ years you did what you normally do. Shower, get dressed in that lab coat and dress pants before leaving your small room. It was still snowing when you turned to nag Mrs. Wicker, she was there alright. Everyone here mostly got out of the rooms by █AM, mostly at least. "Mrs. Wicker--" You started giving the old lady a smile only to have it fall.

Mrs. Wicker was farther away from you than her normal spot. Her normally shaky hands no longer shook and she looked at you with more ice then normal. She was a different person and you wondered what happened to her those days ago, when you went to nag her. But she wasn't there by her door to snap at you.

(the day ███ █████ said that maybe SCPs shouldn't be here to test on..)

(the day ███ █████ turned into D-90562)

"Listen, ██████, I don't mind our normal banter but I suggest you no longer talk to me unless the suits or your team leader say so." Mrs. Wicker hissed out pointing her nose high into the air. "I'm sorry?" You blinked at the old lady, what did you do? Did you say something to her that she didn't like? Did the MTF-Lambda-2 find something and only you didn't know of it? "You heard me, now run along. I'm sure Dr. Hodge has a word or two today." Then Mrs. Wicker turned nose and walked away from you. Her clearance card snug between her fingers. Like she was mocking you.

A lowly researcher only meant to record logs and file away papers.

You don't have a clearance card but you do own a stone grey card meant for your room here in Site-██ .

But you turn your back on Mrs. Wicker and hope there is no way for the Foundation or a SCP to read your hateful thoughts toward Mrs. Wicker. "You got into a fight?" Julian asked this morning. Doing his usual of shoving the cup into your left hand and turning his back to you. Today, there was no room to banter with Julian. Birdie was quicker and shoved and pushed everyone on this team to meet up with Dr, Hodge.

The meeting spot is always outside of the dorms. Past the many hallways leading to more living spaces and past those few offices. Outside the dorms and inside a car ride for over █ miles away. Outside the dorms you got hit with the old snow and chilly winds. "These coats are useful after all." Julian mumbled pulling his coat shut and tucking his hands inside the pockets. Nessie could be heard whining and being upset. When you look over you see why she is, her bland heels where "ruined" from the snow on the floors. 

Julian narrowed his eyes at the girl before grabbing a hold of your arm. It caused you to flinch and fumble with buckling up the coat. "Let's head to the Jeep. Let Birdie and the other's deal with our princess." Julian growled out tugging you behind his long strides and he didn't even allow you to finish buckling up. Your nose was cold and your finger tips shook to much when Julian stopped by the black Jeeps. Standing next to the one meant to drop Wales Red off to see Dr. Hodge.

"I am sure you know _why_ I dragged your sorry self here." Julian started watching you fail at clasping your coat up. He blended into the snow drop, only his black dress pants and shoes really gave his spot away. So did his hair, but that too was being covered under snow. "About ███ █████ right?" But before you can get one button clasped shut Julian took a hold of your hands and hissed in your face. "Do not say his name, ██████. I rather not have the Foundation hear about this." Half way through he let go of a shell shocked you. 

He stared back at you, with his slanted eyes and snow covered hair. Snow melted on his coat and face. 

It was unfair how nice he looked to you. Like a fancy escort being snappy and high priced.

You hated his deal.

"Going to ask me about [REDACTED] again then?" You hissed back shoving your cold hands under your arms. Hunching over you ignore how Julian just stared at you back, before turning to the sounds Birdie and the team where making. "No, not this time around but instead I will tell you to stop now." He finally told you, after watching the snow clouds move over head. "Stop now, before the Foundation really finds out what you know." Julian went on placing a hand on your shoulder to face him. You fought him a bit, not wanting to look at the man but he won this short fight and shoved a card into your lab pocket.

"Dr. Hodge is waiting for us. It's best we don't get interrupted again."

He left it as that before opening the Jeep and settling inside. There was a MTF inside you think, the one's only meant to drive and drop off teams. But you didn't head inside with Julian. Too worried if that unknown MTF overheard you and a bit too scared of Julian. You didn't want to sit next to him for fucks sake! "Is it warm inside?" Birdie asked, finally showing up to your side. "I'm not sure, you can go ahead." Moving aside you held the door open for the older woman.

She too was pretty in her own way. With her darker skin tone and wise air about her.

Once she was sat inside you slid yourself beside the older researcher and shut the door. The car was warm alright but not in the warm welcoming way your parents car would be during this weather. "Hasn't snowed much has it?" Birder asked the air, letting the question settle heavy into your bones. Julian was staring you down and it made you **(forced you)** to remember the card he placed on you. "Yes, well soon it will be happening a lot more often." Julian responded back to Birdie and the two took off in some chat you didn't care about.

_(even the MTF driver joined them and they kept looking at you.)_

_(You never saw it, too busy staring at your cold fingers)_

For every person that worked for Foundation they are to be looked over (both inside and outside) and from there the suits within the Foundation will check down whatever their checklist may ask. From what you _were_ allowed too look into each other researcher and other worker here had different questions. You had some odd ones, while they had some more. . . less odd questions asked. But it all boiled down to one question each Suit asks themself.

Should █████ █████ gain a security or a clearance card of some sorts? And what level?

Turns out you didn't meet the meta for any of those, whatever they may be. So all you ended up with was just a dorm clearance card. To let you inside the [REDACTED] and to open a few doors but nothing to grand. Julian, from what you think, has a LvL 1 clearance card; allowing him to enter and open a lot more doors then you ever will in this place. Birdie has a LvL 2 clearance card; both of those level of cards are a shade of yellow, never a golden color. Nessie was in the same boat as you. A simple grey dorm clearance card.

Dr. Hodge however has the highest clearance card level. He waves the bright yellow card around like it's some kind of by-pass card. It was a nice bright yellow, (not gold mind you) that says in bold black letters LvL 5 Clearance.

_(Julian, Birdie and Dr. Hodge are the only ones allowed to open certain doors for certain SCPs)_

(why can't you have one?)

"Good, everyone is here, let's head off now." Birdie had leaned forward, the movement broke your thoughts and forced you back into the time you were at. All of Wales Red sat inside the Jeep finally. The MTF driver didn't mutter a word, only keeping the old thing into shape and getting ready to head too [REDACTED]. Unfortunately, Nessie sat to your other side and she looked horrible. Like being next to you was like spending a hour next to a SCP. 

When had Nessie start treating you this way? 

As you softly study her upturned nose and tense movement you can almost see when she had. It's in the way her blonde hair is pulled out of Nessie's face and it is written in the way her bland murky eyes never glance your way. Turning away from her you don't know whether to feel sad over a lost friend. Friends are rare and few in this site. This work site can be full of strange and horrible people. Making friends is one way to keep the back stabbers at bay. 

Julian continues to stare at you even after spending a rough █ hours inside the Jeep. The car rides here are long and always too stuffed in these betweens of Sites. You're not sure _why_ he is staring at you so much. (okay, you do and it's about that damn card he shoved into your pockets) But both Julian and you know what happens if a researcher is found holding a clearance key card when they clearly are not supposed to be holding it.

Did he want you to be **_killed!?_**

Julian catches the way your lip trembles and how the grip you have on your pants shake and tighten. He even sees how your eyes widen and he **knows** that you understand then. Finally he looks outside the tinted windows and watches as the rocky mountains and snow covered ground passes by.

_(by the time Wales Red reaches site-█ you are still shaking and sweating under the careful slanted eyes of Julian.)_

* * *

Dr. Hodge was standing outside the site door's. Two heavily armed MTF are there next to him and uncaring as the snow gathered onto their wide shoulder's and black helmets. "Glad you can all make it." He calls out over the sound of a snow storm. His arms are crossed and his hands are tucked close to his body. He wasn't shivering like you and Nessie. But you however, were not frowning at a pair of ruined heels. 

Your team leader seemed to greet you a lot warmer then Julian and Nessie this time around and it makes your mind wonder when you started seeing the pale ghastly form of Dr. Hodge as a warm greeter. But you shuffle along the snow, following after the team leader and those two heavily armed MTF's as they make way into Site-12. It stood tall and blended into the snowy back drop, like it was always meant to be there. Hidden under the show and not to be found at all.

Once inside, you note that Site-12 was a lot warmer (not by much really) than the Jeep. But the fluorescent lighting and the pristine white walls stung your eyes and had you blinking your eyes fast. This caused Julian to glance at you and grab a part of your coat sleeve to steer and tug you along.

As much as he scared you and made you sweat in the car ride you were thankful that he didn't leave you behind in this unfamiliar site. But Julian's rough tugging and sharp turns had that feeling turning to ashes. By the time Dr. Hodge had all of you stopping by a sealed door, you had tugged your arm free of Julian. Eyes no longer aching in pain and you used that to glare at Julian. 

He refused to look down at you at all.

"This is SCP-4204 everyone. Class Object: Safe." Dr. Hodge nodded to the door, while he read from a clipboard. (when did he have that? Did you miss something? _He didn't have that outside!_ ) "Thankfully the research head; Dr. Timothy Butler let us to some checking on SCP-4204 under some strict rules from the director Dr. D Eon." Your team leader went on not seeing your inner struggle.

Nessie was always more talkative when Dr. Hodge was nearby. "What are the anomalous properties SCP-4204 displays Dr?" While her question was a good one, a real good one it made you question the look in her murky brown eyes. Why does she give Dr. Hodge that wide eyed look? Full of emotions you rather not dig into and mostly, _why him_ and _not_ Julian?

You quickly tune into whatever Dr. Hodge had to say about the anomalous properties and _away_ from the thought that Nessie should be crushing on Julian.

(he is closer to both your ages; only being 25 but you were fearful what that meant)

"It say's here-

  * _The light reflected from the Moon will be completely obscured within a 25-kilometer radius of SCP-4204’s user._
  * _All incandescent and fluorescent lighting in a room entered or occupied by the user will shut off completely and are unable to be powered on until approximately 28 minutes after the user has exited the room. Natural lighting such as fire will be extinguished, while bioluminescent light sources will be reduced by a factor of 10._
  * _All security cameras within a 700-meter radius, including those equipped with infrared thermography or low light capabilities, will be unable to detect SCP-4204’s user._
  * _Electronics capable of emitting sound within 200 meters begin to play **The Thief and the Moon** by Shawn James at 25 decibels._
  * _Electronic and conventional safeguards such as locks will fail in a radius of 2 meters around the user. Simple mechanisms, like a boarded-up door, will be unaffected._



So that is what is noted here. I am sure however there will be more that isn't given." Dr. Hodge ended that with a frown before grabbing his clearance card.

Seeing his brightly colored down made you all the more sweaty and aware of what sits heavy in your pocket. Just when you had forgotten about it too! When you gave that same pocket a quick, under the radar, pat you sadly note it is still there. You kinda hoped that it would somehow disappear from your person.

Julian doesn't help in your shaky panic either since you hadn't moved from your spot in front of the open door, since he makes a grab at your arms and pulls you close to him

_(it required a LvL 2 clearance card and whilst you were fretting over the unknown card everyone else had filtered inside.)_

_(there are a total of 4 cameras in this hallway and another 3 around the corner. You counted them)_

"the Foundation will see you like this in the cameras and they will **not** be happy about your emotional state." He rumbled close to your face. Whether he did that just to make you stop looking so shady or not was left in the air. 

Giving a stiff nod, he lets go of you and leaves to enter SCP-4204's room. Julian's only evidence that he had a hold on you was the left over wrinkles and folds on the places his freckled hands held too. You flatten them out with smooth hands and relaxed your panicking mind. The cameras were slowly turning to watch you in quiet wonder. 

So you take in a deep breath and follow after Julian's wide back. Acting as if you always owned a clearance card your whole time here. That it was always been your grey dorm card. 

Nothing more and it never _will_ be more.

_(the cameras don't follow you when the door slide shut behind your coat)_

* * *

The idea for Wales Red being inside SCP-4204's room was to see if the collection of 55 coins worked in the early morning day. (you had a feeling that no, it won't work whatsoever) That is what Birdie had informed you and Julian after you took to long outside. She gave you a look at first before dragging her glare to Julian. "Thank you, understood." Was all Julian said before removing himself from Birdie's bubble. 

"Did he do something?" Birdie asked, a gentle hand holding you back from joining the rest of the team. "No. . . ? He just told me my coat had some snow on it." You lied from your teeth. Birdie let go and didn't ask anything more. Whether she believed it or not isn't going to matter in the end.

In the end of the morning SCP-4202 did not work in the early sun. The personal in charge worked well with your team, however in your eyes they looked more worn and stressed out if anything.

_(You didn't write that down and only left it as "Attempts to use SCP-4204 during the morning has resulted in failure. Maybe noon?")_

During the whole ordeal, neither Birdie or Julian hid their glances thrown your way. You hoped nothing will come out of their glances really. You didn't want a repeat of what you found under ████ ██████'s D-Class file. You also hoped no camera's or MTF found out that you did end up looking into the files. "Is this all, Dr. Hodge?" You asked softly, walking behind the old man as Wales Red cleaned up and left SCP-4204's room. "Yes, that is mostly it until later at █PM. Otherwise you are free to do whatever, but I will be needing those notes you wrote down." And that was how Dr. Hodge collected everyone's paper and started to head somewhere in Site-12. 

"Let's head back to the Jeep then," Julian's voice scared you, since you didn't think he could be any more louder. "Get some rest and eat before Dr. Hodge or some one higher calls us." He finished staying behind you as Birdie and Nessie took the charge to leave. You didn't follow until Julian made the first step.

It was then that you clearly understood why he stood with you and shoved that fucking clearance card onto you. 

He wanted to talk. Alone.

That is never good in the S.C.P Foundation.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot looked peaceful in a way, with the many wild flowers blooming and swinging to the soft breeze.
> 
> You only wished that they didn't crush the flowers as they walked you inside the place, each flower crushed under their heavy foots made your skin crawl.
> 
> So you trend softly and hope this plot of land is nice to you.

Julian had followed behind you but each step he took made you dread what this talk was going to be _about_.

When you stood by the heavy grey door with the sign 'STAIRS' next to it, Julian finally spoke up. "Really?" He sneered throwing the staircase a glare before it was dropped to you. "I don't have a clearance card for anything else, so this will have to do." You qipped out, frowning at Julian's look.

What he had against stairs you'll never know. Pushing the door open and starting your trek you knew you didn't want to know since that meant _asking_ him about it. He stayed close to you on the stairs, while the railing was grey in color the white stairs the both you climb looked too normal. It reminded you about that one SCP, an endless staircase that is rumored to take more D-Class lives then any other.

(you don't really want to know any more about Julian then you do now)

Finally, after stiffly being aware of Julian following you from behind you stood on your level and glanced at all of the cameras. Black in color and the lens were glossy, the cameras also slowly turned to glance down at you. Julian eyed them as the two of you passed by each plain white door. "I see." He mumbled, stuffing his hands into the lab coat and keeping his eyes forward. Unlike you, where your cold fingers locked together and your eyes flickered to each passing eye on the wall. 

"My, oh my, Mrs. Wicker is here?" Julian's statement had you stumbling in front of your door. The grey card in your hands felt too hard and too new all of a sudden and as you glanced at the old woman's door you saw Julian look down both ways of the empty hallway. "She's such a high ranking researcher you know, she often works with **Class:** Keter," As the male ranted on about the old woman next door you began to sweat all over, "I heard she is currently working with SCP-2229, however I think she is simply just someone to write down the notes. Do you know why?" Julian finished, pulling you out of your panic. "No, I don't know much about SCP-2229, do they need a certain-" "SCP-2229 is a telepathic entity, crazy."

(the cameras were listening in, you knew because their lights turned to blue.)

Forcing yourself to move again, you slide your sad little grey card into the key slot and pushed open the door. When Julian followed behind you he was too fast and a little too close for you to even try shutting the door in his face. Letting the door shut, you watched as Julian made a sweep around your small little room. He lingers a little too long by your colored pillows but he doesn't say anything nor does he touch it really. Julian finally stops next to you, by the low coffee table and made such a dramatic show of looking at the cameras inside. When he glances down at you, you avoid his look, instead moving away from the small living room and towards the bathroom.

_(the cameras don't record any live feed but they do record all audio.)_

_(there is only two places they don't record anything. Your room and the bathroom.)_

Julian followed after you, but he made his steps silent unlike you. When you shut the door behind the tall male you turned around to see he took your spot on the toilet seat. "So, I won't beat around the bush really. " Julian started, folding his arms across his chest and watching you move to seat on the edge of the tub. "Why did you look into what ████ ███████ had done? Are you fucking dumb?" He hissed out.

His sudden 180 of tone had you flinching and _almost_ falling into the white tub. "Huh?" You gasped out blinking widely at your fellow researcher. But he wasn't what you were used too, now Julian was all cold glares and a snarl on his handsome face. "You heard me, fucker. The Foundation has you under their watch list and all these fucking cameras just proves to _me_ what you had done." He went on standing up and you felt horrible.

In the sense that he won't hurt you but horrible that he guessed rightly so, "Birdie warned you. She literally said not to look into it well guess what?" Julian reached out and snagged the collar of your coat and pulled you toward him. At that point you pushed against him and kicked with your legs, in any hope you wished your kicks would cause Julian to fall and let go of you but it didn't happened. "The Foundation will do to you what they did to ████ ███████. Do you really want to go through what the D-Class goes through?" He growled out shaking your thin body around.

"Let go! I don't want this!" You harshly whispered out, trying to keep any loud noises from escaping this small, cramped bathroom. "No, I won't stop because clearly you can't understand." Julian snarled and as you fought him you came to realize Julian is right. You never did understand the problem you've made for yourself by looking into what you did. 

Julian, in all of his unfairness beauty, let go of you when your salty tears hit the floor. He slowly pulled away and stood there, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing; you curled over your jittery legs and hugging your body. You never sobbed in your life really, maybe a sniffle and even a short gasp. But here you where, in the too white bathroom in a cramped dorm room crying your fears away. "Listen, I di-didn't mean too." You sobbed out tucking your face into the crooks of your arms. 

Everything about you felt as if it crashed and clanged too much with the Foundation's strict need for just white and grey and black colors. The shampoos they let you keep were too bright in their tones of purple and yellow. "Didn't mean too? _Didn't mean too??_ You hear yourself right?" Julian cut out, his voice bringing you down. "You're a fool, that's what you are." He hissed, but when he shoved a small towel into your face you knew that last bit wasn't meant to heart.

(You think so, but during the time you take to clean your face Julian scowls and shifts away from you _even_ more)

(he doesn't get very far in your small bathroom and he wonders how a place can be so tiny and **_cramped_** )

By the time you had cleaned yourself up, Julian had left the bathroom and was somewhere inside your small prison. You should be worried over that fact, who knows what he can be snooping through but here in SCP Foundation it's a known rule to never have something to hide. Placing the towel on the edge of the tub you cringed at that thought, you do have something to hide which is what you read about ████ ███████. But you didn't take any of the papers to your room. You knew better then to try and sneak papers outside of their respectful places.

You spent the rest of your time warily watching Julian move around your place, every so often he would bring a flyer to you or even a cloth of sorts.Then he would quiz you over the items he brought forth, like why this item? When did you get it? How often did you use it? Sometimes you caught him tossing the items away. 

You held your tongue as he did this and the cameras kept their eyes on you.

* * *

It wasn't until a few days later (exactly 2 weeks, Julian wouldn't let you forget that fateful day you sobbed) that a suit dropped by to join you and your team. She wasn't what you thought the suits would look like. You pictured them looking more like Dr. Hodge, pale and evil looking in some sort of way. But the lady greeted everyone with bright smiles and a loud ' _Good morning!'._

Nessie took to the woman's side like glue, even if the taller woman didn't bother joining into her idle chats over everything. Birdie and Julian threw the so called, "Prof. Lisa Hull" odd looks and then went on to turn to _you_ with a glare of sorts.

All you had to offer was a shrug and fleeting eyes, the three of you all knew why Prof. Hull was here and why she focused solely on you too. Dr. Hodge looked less stiff you dully noted, watching the team leader work and skit around the suit of a women. He let his shoulder's fall down from their height and his hands where no longer so clipped and clasped together now. 

This suit was a tall woman, taller then you thought the Foundation's would like but here she is. Tanned skinned and looking dainty if anything, her brown eyes where rarely off of you too, which had the creeps hooking around your limps and mind.

"You shouldn't have your hair so loose." Birdie mentioned to you, pressing a rough palm into your back as Julian let out a snide at you. Prof. Hull let out a loud giggle before waving Birdie away. (She didn't remove herself from you and that had you tensing under the soft glare Prof. Hull threw your way.) "She's fine, it's not really noted and often that a SCP Object goes for the hair. You should be fine, [REDACTED]."

(You never told the suit your name and neither did Birdie)

(Julian refused to look you in the eye and it made you _sweat_ )

"I will not be joining you in the current over looking of the SCP." Prof. Hull brought up at the entrance too Site-█. She stood still, snug between the two imposing MTF guards to her right and left. As Dr. Hodge went to chat with the suit you glanced at the MTF guards with slight worry. Over the days you had started counting the amount of times the guards would stop to talk with you. The number had totaled up to █ already, which is worrying since no MTF guard should be talking too _one_ person alone.

These two, next to Prof. Hull was clearly never meant to be in Site-█, the first clue you knew of this was the fact that they wore different Site Badges. The numbers they wore didn't match up and the last final note was the guns they carried. Prof. Hull cut the view you had of these unknown MTF guards by getting into your sight and also by laying a heavy hand on your arm.

"I'll be taking this one with me too! She's caught my eye, you know." She joyfully commented, all teeth in her smile. The two guards turned their heads your way and then looked at each-other. "Really? her?" Julian questioned and to your ears he sounded like he was offended over that.

(It never hit you, until much later in your life, that he was tiring to save your life by replacing you with _him_ )

"Yes! She's got quiet the eye, don't you think so Dr. Hodge?" She went on, as if Julian's biting tone didn't bother her. During this time, Prof. Hull slowly pushed you between the MTF guards and away from your team. Wales Red, the few that did look at you now glanced at you in pity. Nessie, finally after days, looked at you with pity and some saddness, like today was the day you'll be given to SCP-049 to 'cure'. Julian joined her in that look, but under his look of pity he held that look of 'i knew this was going to happen' and in some sick twisted way, you did too.

Birdie was the only one to not throw you a look of pity, she held the look of betrayal. You knew why and by the way things are now, she does too.

Dr. Hodge didn't say anything, only nodded his head and stiffly shoved Wales Red away from the spot and back to the matter at their hands. "Now that is over with, come along." Prof. Hull called over her shoulder, briskly walking away from the three of you; the MTF guards next to your sides closed you in and lead you after the woman. Like some sort of helpless sheep, you followed after their sheeping. The guns in their palms smelled of danger and the sharp teeth and showed in the smiles they held also spoke of danger.

You had dug yourself into a pit, one that belong to the D-Class with the Foundation peering over from the top.

* * *

You won't be returning to your dorm any time soon, the plane rides and car rides Prof. Hull and her many MTF guards took you on explained that fact. You won't be returning home for a few days because the group that kidnapped you are planning a trip to a Foundation Site out of State. From the small murmurs and soft words you only understood that the place you will be heading to is Jasper, Indiana. Far from your dorm and even farther from Wales Red.

(you hated this fact, and even more so that you have to travel in the same clothes and shoes this bitch stole you in)

"This is SCP-4595!" Prof. Hull stopped in front of area that had been fenced off, the yellow sign and warning labels that go along with every SCP confirmed her words. "Normally, we don't allow anyone inside the room and the area, only authorized testing personnel under the supervision of the SCP-4595 research lead should be allowed inside." She went on, unaware of your unease. As she talked about the research lead and who they are, you read the sign warnings about SCP-4595, whilst the thing says it's safe you have some doubts over that. Most of the time the Containment Class has a odd way of saying how they're safe.

(when did you start thinking of SCP's as _'they'_ and not a _it'_?)

Under the bold green words of SAFE there was a newer sign, one that few SCP's often get, Disruption Class: DARK. You haven't really seen much of this green tag in the sites you've visited, in fact this is the first time a Disruption Class has popped up for you. There was one more tag, colored a shade of yellow but you never got to read it as the suit blocked your eye sight to it. Her knowing smile told you that she saw you reading the signs.

"SCP-4595 is a LvL 2 SCP. It's perfectly safe to interact with and even be next too. However, the only thing you need to worry about, [REDACTED], is that under no circumstances is SCP-4595-A to be disturbed in anyway." Prof. Hull informed you, she grabbed her key card, a brightly colored orange one and opened the locked door. Those imposing fences screeched and groaned with some effort to allow Prof. Hull and the few MTF guards inside. 

(You started sweating then, not to whatever this SCP-4595 may be but over the amount of MTF Guards; where did all these folks come from and when??)

(But the one thing that slipped your mind was that there was no D-Class with you. )

"There, there. You won't be alone." Prof. Hull cooed out, all smiled at your stiff form. Even the MTF with her gave you sharp smiles. "There will be the Site-█ Researchers to record what will be happening!" She clapped her hands together at the end. As if it was some party you were all heading towards. Some of the Guards around her clapped as well, all of them smiles and sneers.

You were the sore thumb, not clapping nor having a grand time.

(it was at that point you knew this was another SCP testing, were some random D-Class will be forced to do whatever just to see what would happen.)

(never did it occur to you what would happen if there was no D-Class picked out for a SCP Testing)

\--

SCP-4595 is a small room, at least you think. It's a woodshed hidden behind an abandoned house. The house looked like it has been left to rot for about. . ..19 years by now. Or however many years it's been here untouched before the Foundation got it's claws over the land.

(It made you wonder how the Foundation got wind of this plot and how they got the rights to build on it too)

There are weeds and other type of plants growing by SCP-4595 and the household. Overgrown with tall weeds and clusters of wild flowers.The plot looks untended for and also as if no one really cared enough to fix the damn place. But in some sort of way, it looked peaceful.

_(the warning sign from before floods your mind and you choose to step carefully, the fear of what this SCP-4595-A can do forces your feet to trend softly)_

_(You also end up softly praying to the SCP-4595-A as well, maybe it can hear your soft apologizes and can feel how sorry you are to crush a wild flower under foot)_

(it's also stressed in your prayers that the people around you _are **not**_ with you and that every plant crushed and rock kicked out of the way is not included)

_( SCP-4595-A does in fact hear it but you are not aware of that.)_

"Here we are!" Prof. Hull called out, stomping on a patch of purple wild flowers. You wilt at that sight and carefully shuffle to a dead patch of grass, nothing there would be harmed by your soles. But there was some orange colored wild flowers that circled that patch in. The MTF guards don't care so they crush and stop on top of even more pretty flowers and other plants. 

Some of those orange flowers also get crushed and stomped on. No longer standing so tall and beautiful. 

"[REDACTED], as I am sure you know of, normally these testings we partake in includes a D-Class Personal to be our pig." She goes on, her fingers catching your eye. In a swiping motion you followed her gesture and slowly it dawned on you.

**You didn't spot a single orange suit out here in this plot of land.**

"We currently don't have many D-Class Personally, right boys?" She asked to the guards around you. They chuckled and let out whoops of 'No ma'am!'.

**The sweat started too gather on your back, the small breeze that was here no longer blew and that made you much too warm.**

"And we already have a full team of researchers to record notes." Prof. Hull went on, taking great joy in the way you looked. Her loose curls looked like coiled snakes to you.

The orange wildflowers that circled your small patch of dead grass curled and cradled your shoes. Like they were trying to comfort you in this moment. When you finally glanced down at the orange plants, watching as they twisted and gently curled on your black shoes you knew SCP-4595-A was there.

It had heard your soft prayers and you felt grateful that they understood.

"So, you will be our chosen D-Class for this SCP-4595 testing!" The cheering of Prof. Hull and her army of MTF Guards sounded muted. Like they were in another room, cheering for the New Years.

You gave the wild flowers a soft smile, a small whisper of thanks and then you stared at the woodshed door. Wrapped and sunken, the sun was too harsh for the wooden door and soon...

this place will be too harsh for you too. 

As they forcefully remove your lab coat you knew what was happening. You are being stripped of your title as a researcher. 

Soon they will move your file to the D-Class files. There you will be often picked for SCP Testings and SCP-4595 will be the first test that will go to that file.

(No one saw the key card Julian gave you fall into the orange wild flowers. The cluster curled and hid the card from view.)


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vaguely woman was twisted to your eyes. Large wounds graced her face, neck and finally her chest when she got close enough to reach out for you. Some blood dotted the twisted humanoid figure but when she got a hold of your arms you felt how cold she was, like she spent too much time underground somewhere.
> 
> She smelt of dirt and earth as she leaned into your embrace.
> 
> You shared the warmth you had with the SCP and softly prayed that this won't be the way you'll die.

In the black film of MTF Guards visor's you can see yourself reflected back to you. With the backdrop of a sky turning from blue to soft purples surround you along with the shed of SCP-4595. You must look fragile and soft in their eyes. From the sneering smiles the guards give you and the speech Prof. Hull was giving at the time you can believe that image, of the skinny frail woman turning into a D-Class. Prof. Hull's words are loud and demanding, saying something to the researchers behind her. 

They huddled behind the tall woman, clipboards and even data tablets clutched in their hands as they nod along to her speech, most of them looked older. With wrinkles and grey hair dotting their faces, some even had reading glasses. All older and much more experienced Foundation researchers compared to the younger Wales Red.

All of them, all these researchers and even MTF Guards are standing here in this untended plot of land to bear wittiness to your death.

(well maybe, the way those orange flowers cradled your shoes made you have _some_ hope)

None of them really stopped this from happening either, those who disobeyed the Foundation had this happen to them. Whatever position they held no longer mattered if they go against what the Foundation stands for, even more important and powerful people will swoop down and strip that person of that position. In order to hold up the Foundation's belief and whatever else they think is correct for the world. 

Prof. Hull and her rag tag team did just that to _you._ Which is upsetting, you thought Julian and Dr. Hodge would be the one's to throw you into an SCP and take away your position. 

And in the visor films, from surrounding MTF Guards, you can see how thinner and small you looked once your lab coat was off your body. Standing in front of this many people had you feeling like you disrespected the Foundation in some sick twisted way without the outer layer which _was_ your lab coat.

You never really saw anyone _without_ their lab coats. The only ones that really didn't have some sort of strict work outfit would be the D-Class.

(Fellow D-Class now.)

"Hand her the items, please. We don't have much time now." Prof. Hull's voice finally caught your attention. She waved a long hand behind herself before a MTF Guard came forth. She crushed and killed more wild flowers as she stepped close to you. Without waiting for you to open your hands the female MTF shoved a camera and some sort of audio recording into your soft palms.

The rounded edges of the vintage camera dug into your soft palms and let red marks in it's wake. The audio recording was mostly wires and had your fingers tangled and twisted in the rubber vines.

"In this testing, [REDACTED], you will just be taking some photos of SCP-4595." Prof. Hull explained out, watching as you fumbled and fussed with the items given to you. It took awhile, with all the stares watching you wear the audio recording and just holding the camera had you mess up a few times. In the end you correctly wore the audio device and with that they started the testing. 

"Very well, let's get this started. [REDACTED] open the wooden door behind you. We will have a proper name and outfit for you once this testing is over." Prof. Hull nodded to you before she faced her team of old people. They fluttered and moved around the head woman to stand closer to both you and SCP-4595. Their polished black shoes ended up kicking loose rocks around and just killing all flowers that grew there. It made you shiver and frown to the smaller researchers as they grew closer, but the splash of black from incoming MTF (to force you to start the test since you just stood there) had you swiftly turning your back to everyone and reaching towards SCP-4595.

_("Please be nice, I don't mean any harm-really!-shocking right? I just want to leave!")_

The handle on the wooden door felt dusty and splintered in your hand. It took a gentle tug for the thing to let out a loud sound in protest and for the wooden door to open wide for you. With the threat of researchers and MTF behind you, the wooden shed looked a lot more friendly. With that you stepped inside the much cooler room and shut the door behind you as softly as the thick wood would let you. There was very little lighting inside the room, the only natural light coming inside was from the window panes, with dust and other filth on the objects.

Everything looked so old and vintage to you. From the style of the windows and all the way to the dusty bench and even the skele--

_SKELETON!?_

With a stifling gasp you picked up the camera to your eye to snap a photo of the dead person. The shutter of the camera sounded loud to you and it echoed in this small room but the flash of the damned thing lit up more of the place. As you lowered the vintage camera you felt the thing shutter and then the Polaroid began to be printed out.

(or inked you don't know how these things work.)

(Also the Foundation has a lot of money in their pockets to get a more modern camera too, so why this vintage camera that spits out polaroids!?)

Standing still, in front of the wooden door you grabbed the thin photo taken and without much care really you begin to shake the polaroid up and down as fast as your wrists can allow. Whether you are supposed to do this or not doesn't matter, you want to feel like this is all a movie. Like when a friend of the main character takes a photo and they shake the polaroid.

Except this wasn't a movie with friends taking photos and laughing. No, this is possibly( your death trap you're inside of and the photo you took of was a skeleton that looks like an adolescent with some scorch marks next to it on the ground.

The pit in your throat and guts grow at that fact, a adolescent was left here to rot and they could've had their body disrespected by being lit on fire. "I'm sorry about you, I'm not sure what happened," You softly start still shaking the damned polaroid around in the stuffy air, "but I give you my respects in the after life. I hope you're much happier there than here. Maybe I'll be joining you."

_(without a clue, the skeleton had shifted when you looked away and at the ploaroid in hand, it was laid there, angry and hateful for what the foundation has done to it)_

_(Softly now, your hushed words soothed it's ruffled feathers for this moment.)_

Why does it feel like someone is watching your back and every move as you go farther into the small room?

* * *

As you turn to look behind you, that spine chill of something or someone watching you, you find the words "WITCH" scattered all over the door you once stood next too. Whatever the martial used for the crude writing was something you cannot identify from one glance. But the exterior of the wooden door had "WITCH" all over it, different hand writings but all of them spelling out the same word over and over.

From the very bottom edge of the wood door all the way to the top. When you take another photo the flash once more lights up the area, showing the dust in the air and even the worn down walls. This place speaks of old times and even _smells_ of it too.

But then it hits you, that feeling of being stalked. Slowly you glanced around as you shake the polaroid, but no one is there as you look around. This small place only has you and the adolescent skeleton. But there, hidden in the dark is the bench. The only thing sitting on it is a cluster of dust. 

But no one is here. No one you can _see_ at least.

Tucking the two polaroids away, in the small pouch that came with the camera you carried on. Softly itching at your wrists.

\- 

"Hello?" You called out, itching at your collarbones. This place was starting to affect you now, you knew of this from the way you scratched and itched at your skin. Like there was something on your skin that just _made_ you want to scratch and scratch until blood draws forth. But whether it was the air or not was anybody's guess really. Hell it could also be from the photos you took.

_itchitchitchitchitch_

_why can't I stop?_

Nothing greeted you back. Only the sound of your shuffling clothes and the sound your nails made as you scratched as your forearms in long strokes. Blunt nails scraped and dug into the soft flesh and left behind red angry trails. With a frown you removed your hand and took, abit a shaky, photo of the action.

You didn't shake that polaroid, just shoved it in the pocket with the others.

_itchitchitchitchitch_ _itchitchitchitchitch_ _itchitchitchitchitch_ _itchitchitchitchitch_ _itchitchitchitchitch_

"I don't want to cause any problems, but may I take your photo?" You whispered growing unsettled and worried as you itch some more, and scratch at your shoulders. The feeling of needing to relive that itch making you worried, what is on you? Does this SCP affect skin only? 

Everything on your skin felt uncomfortable but everywhere your nails raked on felt better. But only for a heartbeat, then that uncomfortable feeling bloomed back ten fold.

_itchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitchitch_ _tchitchitchitchitch_ _itchitchitchitchitch_ _itchitchit **chitchitchitchitchitchitchitch**_ **_itchitchitchitchitch_ _-_ **

Suddenly it felt as if nothing was never causing you any discomfort in this room. Skin itched raw throbbed to your heartbeat as everything hushed. The creaking of the woodshed settling into the ground sounded loud, so did your breathing as you took everything in but so was the shuffling of feet.

_Shuffling of feet?_

When you turned towards the wood door there was a woman there, at least you think so. The way they were shuffling forward and the shape of their arms had you doubting the gender. Vaguely feminine in appearance their shadow was casted onto you. It was cold and the air was clean in her shadow.

(But where did the sudden light source behind her come from? or did she do that for dramatic effect?)

_to breathe, she castes her shadow for your struggling lungs to clear up._

The words of Prof. Hull suddenly took life inside your head as this vague female drew closer.

_"... However, the only thing you need to worry about, [REDACTED], is that under no circumstances is SCP-4595-A to be disturbed in anyway..." Prof. Hull informed you._

It was like a jump-start to your brain. Suddenly this unknown woman had a name, even if it was a crude name. Her name is SCP-4595-A and she has a path to reach you. To do what? You don't know but what you _do_ understand is that she blocks the way to the only exit.

Not that it mattered, you bitterly think, she will reach you no matter what and instead of fighting SCP-4595-A.

Why not let her reach you?

* * *

Shutting the door softly behind you was a lot easier now then when you finally left the room. The time outside the side was blurred, you spent a total of 4 hours inside the damn shed. You assume so at least, your watch stopped working when you stepped foot in SCP-4595. The sky was painted midnight blue with no clouds either, stars were blocked out from the light the Foundation had set up. You can only spot the North Star since no light was inside SCP-4595's plot of land. 

Prof. Hull and her gang of people were _not_ standing where you last saw them nor were they in the plot of land. SCP-4595-A's soft whisper told you that. Carefully you stepped away from the shed and gently walk down the beaten path those MTF left behind. 

(you did pause to gently thank the orange flowers and picked up the black key card. The white lettered cannot be seen in the shade of night but you tucked the card into your shoe and carried on)

_(You had to shove it, between the soft sole and the hard rubber of bottom of your shoe. They let you keep shoes when you turn into a D-Class and as cleanly as they check you they will not check that place.)_

_(they never had too)_

SCP-4595-A gave her soft goodbye to you in the form of plants curling out of your way and SCP-4595 gave their goodbye in the form of soothing the scratch marks on your skin. The irritated skin slowly turned back to your skin tones and the feeling of being watched no longer caused fear to race up your spine anymore. When you stopped by the tall fence that closed in SCP-4595 you understood that the feeling of being watched no longer felt threatening anymore. But soft and like the gentle weight a loving mother would give you. "[REDACTED] is outside! I repeat [REDACTED] is outside! Open the gates!" came a shout from over the fencing. 

As the groaning and screeching of a opening gate rang over anything and everything you turned back to the shed behind you. It looked small and unassuming from this distance but in the darkness of the night you can spot the figure of SCP-4595-A standing outside, wooden door slightly ajar for her to peer back at you. Throwing her a gentle smile you raised a hand to gave the slashed woman a good bye wave.

( _she waved back too once the MTF Guards had opened the doors and pulled you out of her shared plot of land. She could see the way they grabbed and man handled you onto their side)_

_(she waved back once the gate was shut and she gently shut the wooden door behind her.)_


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You jerk away from the card, throwing the clearance card at the wall where it smacks into it and hits the floors. Around you the other cells start to come to life, muffled voices and the words of a mad fellow leek inside your cell. They all reflect your mind as you stare at your hand.
> 
> It touched the clearance card and your hand feels like it's burning. 
> 
> Tears gather in your eyes and with a shove your shoe hits the floor and lays next to the clearance card. You sob into the pillow and you cry about everything.
> 
> Mostly on how Julian got that clearance card of all.

The escorting from SCP-4595 to Site-19 was nothing gentle, like the beginning of your descent to a D-Class. Right from the first step you took outside of SCP-4595's plot the guards stripped the gear given to you in a rough manner. The audio recording wires dig and pinched at your skin and the camera was just ripped out of your gentle fingers. Once their important research gear was safely off your body a female MTF Guard pulled and twisted your arms behind you. The movement had you stumbling and wincing as muscles were rudely woken up from the twists and turns.

(SCP-4595's affect still lingered on you, so the irritated skin feels numb and the muscles pulled in your shoulders, arms and joints felt cooled)

(Maybe SCP-4595 knew this was going too happen? Either way you thank them once more before grimacing at the words the Guards shout at you)

_"Keep putting up a fight, see what happens."_

_"[DATA EXPUNGED] looks dazed, should we tell [REDACTED]?"_

_"Yes, it's best to inform [REDACTED]."_

_"Understood, I'll call ahead and let [REDACTED] know what [DATA EXPUNGED] is."_

Why do they have to be so **loud**? The handcuffed also made a loud _click_ when they snapped the cool metal onto your wrists, arms snugly tied behind your back the MTF Guards finally fluttered away from you. The road and pathway the Foundation made in front of the gates of SCP-4595 were all packed dirt and loose gravel, the kind that are so loose if your father was here he would be waving his cap at the gravel and ranting about how the car can't go over it. Sliding tired eyes to the Foundation Jeeps, you knew that those things can handle almost anything. You've been in the seats when those white Jeeps drove through water and thick layered snow. Over grown plants and even people.

You don't want to think much about them anymore so you turn to the black outfits of the MTF Guards awaiting orders. They are all covered from their toes to their ears, granted the only skin they have open is the higher ranking MTF Guards and the lower class who leave their mouths open. The skin tones come in all sorts of colors, you can spot the pale skins of a few in the night and you can only see the darker tones from those near you. It makes you upset that the one's that are high ranking are all pale, if anything it paints them like some ghosts. 

Either way you hate them and you hate the Foundation. You hate how Prof. Hull and her research team left you, how they ditched you once the door shut behind you. You grow hateful for the fact that the only reason SCP-4595 was picked for you is because they hoped that you would somehow die in there. In that small room with SCP-4595-A finishing you off. Mumbled words from surrounding MTF inform you of this fact, _"it was meant to kill [REDACTED]"..."how is [REDACTED] still here?"..."Doesn't matter one of things fucks will do it."_

It's growing colder outside, outside spot lights and other outdoor lights start to flicker on and the humming that generates from them start to overtake your ears. All other sounds slowly start to take over the chitter and squawking the Guards do around out. Softly you shut your eyes (they allow it, thinking you're just tired) and listen to the sounds around you. Crickets kick into gear, their legs playing a song and distant frogs start their vocals too, croaking into the night air. It reminds you of being outside, where you spend a night out camping in the wilds. The sounds of nature coming alive during the night. Birds are sleeping, foxes could be running around and anything else that favors the night suddenly take a breather and step out under the blanket of stars. Out here is _almost_ the same in that sense. But everything _normal_ makes sure to keep their sounds muffled and soft, things out here could be something other worldly and very much dangerous. 

To them.

To you.

Slowly your eye lids open up and you come to see that during your moment of listening you had leaned onto your heels and tilted your head up. Looking high up at the stars that break through the flood lights cloud. A few air planes slowly trudge high above the ground, whatever they're flying to has you wondering. What does the Foundation look like to those in airplanes? Are they too busy asleep during the night too see this hellish place? Is a TV show or movie too engrossing to have them glance over? Do the clouds block their view when they _do_ happen to see the Foundation?

You'll never know these answers. 

_(A MTF Guard nods to the one closest to you, a young female who in response reaches out to you with a gloved hand. Her mouth is blank and only her thoughts show the worry when her touch does nothing to shake you awake.)_

All because you grabbed a shovel that Birdie told you not to touch and use at all. It didn't matter if you got these answers anyways.

_(She's bigger then you in every sense and she's aware how you feel like a baby in her wide palms. A hand is holding onto your elbow as she starts to drag you to a white Jeep. Her grey eyes trace the logo of the Foundation and the Jeep's site number, Site-19, before it settles onto the other Guards.)_

_(It's a shame that she has to drag you really. You looked as dainty and pretty as a doe. But the packed dirt and loose gravel have you stumbling and tripping under her care.)_

Even Julian was worried, watching as you grabbed the steel handle of the forbidding shovel, he gave you warnings as you slammed the pointed head of the shovel into packed dirt and started to dig. With his pretty face and slanted eyes.

It didn't matter. Soon you will be dead. The dead don't get answers.

_(She makes sure to have a firmer hold onto you, which had her holstering the weapon in her right hand, all to catch you. It's horrible to her grey eyes, seeing you so dazed and out of it. When she saw you step outside the plot SCP-4595 is held in she was impressed.)_

_(at you.)_

_(at the way you held your head high, eyes steeled and some air of triumph really.)_

Julian was the last person to peer into the hole you dug with the shovel. And he was the one to point at it and in a sneer he told you it was a grave.

For who? You asked, placing the shovel away.

You, who else? Julian answered,

The image you created inside your head was popped finally. Only because the sharp pain of slamming your shin into metal made you wince and hiss. How did you end up near a Jeep? Maybe SCP-4595's effects where a bit _too_ much if you didn't even know that you were being moved. Never getting a apology for the bruising your handler helped you sit inside the Jeep. Once everything was seated inside she shut the door that had the car shaking from the force. How strong was this woman to shake a fucking Jeep? Sweating you were kinda glad she didn't speak to you at all now, what if she was snarky and snappy at you?

Tinted windows had your view colored purple, but it didn't stop you from watching the remaining Guards cluster together and talk about orders likely. Their words were muffled and no matter how silent your side of the place was you just could not hear their warped words. The world was against you in every way ever since the Foundation found you. From the point you didn't meet the skills for a clearance card all the way too-

Clearance card! 

The one that was shoved into the insides of your shoes suddenly had a lot more weight too it. It was too dark outside when you picked it up, all you could see from it then was the whiteness of the bottom half and the Foundation logo. Leaning forward in your leather seat, the sound being loud to your ears, you eyed your shoe that held this unknown Level Clearance Card. If it was anything above a Level 3 card you can open most SCP doors and other locked doors inside most Sites. Reminding yourself not to think about what you are carrying you lean back in your seat, the daze feeling surging up again inside your head. Like a dull headache that keeps coming back day after day but also the same feeling you get when you haven't ate anything and you feel weak in the legs.

It's a feeling you hate but at the time you are grateful for it for it will keep the attention of every Site Doctor on those effects and not have you thinking of the black clearance card. At another time you'll take a gander at the item. You will also have plenty of time to wonder why Julian wanted you to have it too, but not now. 

Some Guards pile inside the Jeep. Two at the front, one by your side. No one buckles up and suddenly SCP-4595 is being left in the dust. Watching the fenced off area get smaller and smaller you let out a sigh, it fogs up the window.

* * *

They ended up walking inside Site 19, which leads us to now. Where all you went through a bunch of Doctors and they took note of your effects. You only remembered a few clipings of what they said, something about how this has never happened before and they maybe you should take this or that. In the end they handed a MTF Guard a white paper bag with some pills inside for you to take when you get to your new cell. As you walk down a hallway, with only one Guard, you knew that you won't be taking those pills. You'll sell them to other D-Class to swallow. 

Down the hallway you spot a cluster of MTF Guards, they were easy to spot, one being the fat they looked like brunt marshmallows against the white hallways. The person escorting you shot out a hand and pulled on your shirt, tucking you both into this small notch inside the hallways that are made for this thing. "Stay inside." They grumbled out, adjusting their hold on the gun they carry. Listening to their warning you keep every part of you inside this little notch, it was painted grey with some signs that point to certain parts of Site 19. On the opposite side of you is another grey notch but the bottom of the sign has the words

**'SCP-049 THIS WAY CLASS: EUCLID'**

None of this soothes you now, eyeing the fat MTF Guards you had an idea as to way they wore heavily padded armor now. They must had the unfortunate task of escorting **the** SCP-049, where ever that may be you hope that both the MTF Guards (only 3 of them you see now) and SCP-049 do not pass you in any form. You know that won't be happening, luck hates you in that form, but loves you enough that maybe SCP-049 won't look at you in anyway.

You are not too sure what the MTF Guard might do however. 

As this transport draws closer to your little notch you start to sweat, what if it isn't deep enough to keep you away from SCP-049? You had read apart of his file one day, anything that he touches die, so you are worried that this may be the end for you. SCP-4595 spared you today but maybe this SCP won't be so kind.

The sound of boots and the clinking of metal drew your eyes forward, the escort team has reached you. One thin MTF Guard passed by without a single look at you, but his gun nozzle almost hits your boob. But the next person isn't ignoring you, the bright white mask of SCP-049 is staring at you back. His steps are slow and his boots sound like a echo inside a cave. SCP-049's blue eyes had you reeling in shock, the only thing that stand out in his rather black and white clothes at you surprised.

But you didn't let your gasp go into the air, All you did was stare back at him. He looked like a caged dog, found roaming the streets before a locking collar and extension restraints kept him chained to his handlers.

Handlers...

His human appearance had your eyes softening after his broad back. Your eyes traced his harness on him too, like those harnesses you put on a toddler so they don't go running away. He is treated like s dog and a toddler that might run at any chance he can get. As his slow steps follow his handlers (finally passing you after his blue eyes gave a weak glare to _your_ handler) you felt pity for SCP-049.

A shove at your lower back had you moving outside of the grey notch and farther into Site-19. The white hallway smells of lavender and a tang of blood, whether from a test SCP-049 did or not it has you thinking of his blue eyes.

His.

He.

You.

Inside of Site-19 you sat inside a small room. There was three tables and even a tiny sink in the corner but it looked too clean for it to be any real use. It was just another extra room in this site, whatever it's purpose is for isn't hinted at in the room. But you were escorted here and even handcuffed to the chair you picked. Arms twisted behind your back with your hands aching and feeling numb from the position. How much longer will they have you sitting in this white room? where everything is harsh to your eyes and even the seat is starting to feel uncomfortable. You're shoulders and back started to ache in tune with your heartbeat as time dragged forward and yet you sat here.

(you start to think back to SCP-049. If he is here, you might be picked for him. But last you read he isn't allowed any humans in any shape or form)

Slowly time ticked forward for everyone and everything _but_ you. Here in this extra, most likely forgotten room, inside of Site-19. The place smelled of dust and faintly of cleaning products, nothing in the air smelt normal really. There was no lingering smell of stale food and even bitter coffee, just cleaning products and dust. 

And you, who smelled of the outside world. Of brunt tires from the Jeeps, grass from your trek in SCP-4595 and you, who smells of flowers. The nature smell that hug to your body had you longing for the Foundation to add windows in more rooms. But the reminder of SCPs inside the sites had you understanding in some ways. Wouldn't want a room where SCP-049 could slip inside from. But there you go again, thinking about that humanoid entity again. Him with his medieval plague doctor looks. From the black boots to his bone white plague doctor mask.

To his blue eyes.

_(why did_ he _have to have such nicely colored eyes? why couldn't they be any other color really? Even green wouldn't look that nice next to a white bird mask...)_

Waiting for them to slap your new name on and to take your clothes (not the shoes however) to replace it with those orange jumpers is starting to be too long. This wait is just horrible, like the calm before a storm, had you thinking about your new outfit. Brightly dyed orange with the only black lettering being the logo of the Foundation but also what site you are to be held at and your name. But you kept your woes and sorrows inside of you, strictly locked under key and stored deep somewhere inside of you, this waiting game is meant to have you breakdown anyways. To sob and cry and to just plead with anyone willing to listen that this was never meant to happen.

_"Yes I want to continue working for the Foundation!"_

_"No, I never meant to cause any problems!"_

_"Please just let me go! I don't want this!"_

_"I didn't mean to look into the files! Please-please I have a family!"_

You've heard it all. They've heard it all. They've said it all.

But unlike other's before you, who also sat in a chair like you and waited, you've come to accept what has happened. They might've sobbed and cried their souls out to the Foundation, but not you. You'll sob once you're inside your cell, where a hardly working camera is the only thing to see you sniffle into a straw pillow. Not here in an extra room inside of Site-19 where the cameras work and they can see you sob.

So you sat there, for Lord knows how long, listening to the piping inside the rooms work and the footfalls of people outside the room. No one walked inside and you didn't shift much in the seat. Maybe you bounced your right leg too much or not, either way legs going numb from the lack of movement is never good. _Especially_ inside of the Foundation. You'll never know when something might breach it's containment and all hell will break loose. Not like it mattered in your case however, with the hand cuffs keeping you chained inside this room. Whatever can and will kill would have an easy meal made out of you inside this room.

You know this.

They know this.

(you wonder if SCP-049 is too drugged to bother breaking out of it's handlers.)

"I see you've came too accept it." Prof. Hull strides inside the room finally. Her clearance card is pinched in her fingers before being tucked away somewhere on her. "What else am I to do?" You responded stiffly, making sure nothing is being shown to her face. While she may be a high ranking member in the Foundation, she will never have the perfect skill to read you. It's made clear of that statement when Prof. Hull lets out laughter before placing paperwork on the table between you two. It sounds fake and annoying in the air and she just sits down before getting to work. Prof. Hull towers over you still, even when she is sitting, before nodding softly at you. Like you asked her something a friend or family member would be asking a woman like her. "Well, it just makes things all the more smoother for me." She grins out, showing off her white teeth. They looked straight enough but you spot one crooked tooth before she moves on.

She fiddles with the edge of a paper, her eyes trailed down to read whatever the fuck it could have on it before her eyes meet your own orbs. "From what my research team was able to gather, you took a photo of SCP-4595-A." Prof. Hull pulled out the small stack of photos you took during your testing. They were fairly huge polaroids and when she spreads them before you you find only 2 photos were blurry in total. 

The one of the skeleton and the last one, the photo of SCP-4595-A.

"Tell me," Prof. Hull leaned forward, her elbows on the table as she glared down at you, "How you of all people got a photo of SCP-4595-A." The older woman looked like a mother who is trying to get a child to spill the beans on a magic trick only they knew. The dull aches in your shoulders and the cool soothing feelings on top of your skins tell you that you're the child here.

You did do a magic trick, something that no one else has been able to do so far. "I asked." You finally mumbled out, no matter what you should never be silent in these things. Withholding information in anyway is a terrible act that goes against the Big Bad Foundation. Prof. Hull's dull nails tap against the stacks of paper and only her pinky nail hits the table. Both of you laps into a very strained silence, the woman across you sits still soaking in your simple answer. You sit there in stiff calmness, only because everything about this is lacking the normal producers. 

Prof. Hull may not be recording your small chat only on the simple statement that you are now a D-Class Personal in front of the very high ranking suit. You hate her and you hate the rankings you both hold now. Two people on the opposite sides. 

[DATA EXPUNGED]

* * *

Handing your sweater over to the female MTF Guard, your hands gentle in this trade, she hands you the orange dyed jumper. It felt like a straw bag in your soft palms. Like the type of bag packaging you would see meant for potatoes. Her grey eyes fretted behind you, where by the entrance door of this white room two male guards stand by. One holding a stun baton and the other holding a heavy gun of sorts. "Hurry up." She growled out, voice deep before she moves just a step away from you.

You're standing bare in the eyes of the Guard Dogs of the Foundation. Only your under garments keeping you from being fully naked. Any embarrassment that can be born from this is not here. They've been all sorts of things, naked women, naked men, skinned women and skinned men. You are no different to have them react to seeing your skin. The only thing you care about is your shoes. They are by the MTF Guards, safely in their line of their weapons, if you make any moves towards the items they won't wait to stun or shoot you. So you open the orange jumper and start to slide the itchy fabric onto you. It's irritating how thick the outfit is and how there is a wrinkle at your crotch that up sets you. 

The buttons on the jumper where blocky and just too big for the damn thing but other then that the orange suit fits you okay. You had to fold the bottom of the pants only, the sleeves only ended up at your elbows but the leggings looked like they were meant to trip you. (You hope this doesn't happen, tripping during a test is a bad thing.) "All set." You inform the MTF Guards, not moving anywhere close to them. Only Mister Stun Baton nodded at you before he rudely kicked your shoes towards you.

The rubber bottom of the shoes made a weird thudding noise before the right one stopped by your bare feet and the left one in the equal distance between you and the Guards. "Put on your shoes and we will be escorting you home, D-9341." Miss Grey eyes grunted out pulling out a tablet to in from her higher ups likely. 

Doing as told you hold onto the name she muttered out. Your new name. D-9341. D-Class Personal 9341. That's you now, no longer are you [REDACTED], how shameful. Your right shoe slips on without a problem, you forego tying the laces up. You wonder if Nessie will be replacing you now, she will be in your old spot sorting through testing files and other reports that go in. Her tanned skin will stand out against the grey cabinets and white report papers as she (maybe) reads the reports and filings. Will she end up reading your report? Every site in the Foundation gets a copy of all D-Class Personal, new or old ones. From there the tinted papers will be sorted by number of testings and whether they are dead or not.

Nessie will be picking up the stack of new D-Class Personal and from there she will have to read the first box square on the sheet to determine where they go.She might be the one to sort your new sheet into the 'Alive and Testing' slot. 

Will she be worried seeing your name next to D-9341? Would she cry and sniffle at the lost of you?

_(No, she won't. She'll be fretting about, worried and stressed that she may be next for talking to_ **you.** _)_

_(You understand why she acted so odd and skittish now those many days ago, she reacted the same way when ███ █████ became a D-Class)_

Your left shoe slipped on with some tugging. The damn thing just refused to go on easily, but once it was on you tucked the laces inside and stood up. You can tie them when you are inside the cells. "10-4. We are on the move." One guards mumbled into his radio, the black box clipped back into his belt and you allowed yourself to be herded in the middle of the three. Standing out against them you wondered down the halls of Site-19 once more, only this time you where alone with the 3 guards.

There was no SCP-049 being transported somewhere ahead of you. His handlers and himself never crossed your path again as you wonder these halls. All of them white with marbled floors and stone ceilings. LED Lights hummed between the sounds of footfalls but you never heard the clinking of chains or anything. No lavender lingered in the air and only the smell of sweat and gun powder can he smelt. Every deep breathe you take you hope to pick up _some_ lavender of sorts. Anything to trace where SCP-049 could be, if his containment is inside Site-19 you have a high chance of being a test subject for him.

And if he were to break his containment you need to know how close he can come to you.

"Stop sniffing like a fucking dog." The voice and tone had you flinching. It was said by the MTF Guard to your right, he held the gun where the nozzle of the fucking weapon was pointing right at your arm. You only gave him a look before facing forward staring at the broad back of the female guard. Answering back at a MTF Guard as a D-Class is a bad idea. It's a rule that swam in your head so you just listened to his threat and kept your deep breathing more on the down low. But this female guard's back, broad and in the padded suit for a Guard has you thinking about SCP-049.

(why has he been inside your head?)

She was just shy of meeting SCP-049's height. But her shoulders meet the said height as the entity, only thing that didn't match up is her more blocky build. The female Guard is clearly packed with muscles while SCP-049....wasn't? He didn't look like he had as much muscle as this female in front of you. When he had shuffled past you he looked slim and lean, like how a cat is in some odd way. Mainly, SCP-049 looked like a tall lean male who can lunge across the fucking room to choke you.

In the term of death. Not in any other way, at least that what you tell yourself but the way you stumble a step as you doubting it.

You blame SCP-049's blue eyes.

[DATA EXPUNGED]

Here you stand inside a cool hallway. The end you entered from wasn't that far from your new cell. The hallway was a off white with stone grey floors that give off a slight chill. Metal doors line the hallway every odd feet apart. These are the D-Class Cells inside Site-19. "While you don't have a set Site Cell, D-9341." The female MTF Guard start finally turning around to address you, "This is where you will be kept indifferently. I'm sure you know the drill." With that she pulled out a royal blue clearance card. It caught your eyes as she stepped towards a blank white metal door and swiped the card into the key pad. 

A light on the top left turned from red to a green before it let out a soft beep and the heavy metal door started to open. It creaked and groaned with some effort, stiff gears and pistons kicking to life to open the white metal door. "There is some medical pills inside the white bag given to you, take only one every day and we won't have any troubles." She went off, stepping to the side and from where you can see her the black garb of MTF Guards really do end up standing out. In this cold place where the rooms and hallways are always white. "Thank you." Is the only words you offered to the three handlers escorting you. As a 'You're Welcome!' the MTF Guard who held the gun used the butt of the weapon to push you inside the cell.

You didn't stumble but he didn't need to push you, the asshole. Inside the room it was cold. The vented air didn't really flow around this small cell, it just sat in the air and already your fingers are becoming cold and numb. There is only a bed, attached to the wall and a small counter on the opposite side. The white counter isn't very wide but two things are already taking up all the space, a white paper bag and a report of sorts. A toilet and a sad looking sink are sadly closest to the metal door, wonderful. Maybe one day a MTF Guard might catch you taking a shit. Not ideal really.

Slowly you turned to face the metal door, the sound of it closing rattled your ears and had your eyes shaking slightly. As the door made it's way to shut you watched as the two male MTF Guards start to laugh and walk away from the D-Class Cells the only female Guard stood there still. Her black gloves worked to place the royal blue card away on her body, you traced the movements with longing. You never got a clearance card, so why was everyone flaunting theirs? Either way she watched the card go into her left breast pocket. 

She left you with parting words that seeped into the cell just as the metal door clicked shut. Where you can faintly hear the key pad let out a loud beep. You were locked here, inside this too cold of a cell room. 

_"Welcome to Site-19, D-9341."_

First thing you do after standing around idle was glance around for a camera. After you scout the area and even tore apart your bed you find no camera. Not a single eye in the wall inside this lonely cell. With one thing checked off your mental list you head over to the toilet and the sad flimsy sink, both looked clean and when you touched them too they felt clean as well. That soothed your heart and to ease your worried mind you tested both for water. The toilet flushed like normal, however the sink took awhile to actually pump the filtered water out. There was no nob for cold water, so the stink spilled out hot water. Happy and a lot more calm you shuffled over to the tiny counter, where a sheet of paper caught your eye first.

On the top in bold text is the Foundation logo with the letters SCP on the left of it with Secure. Contain. Protect. right under the two words in a much smaller text size. The paper felt cheap and was thin as a tissue paper too, like the slightest tug can rip the thing apart.

 **"Orientation** **Leaflet** **for the Class D Personnel"** is the title of the cheap paper, which had you scoffing at the first word. "Orientation"? As if this was something like a orientation at all. Skipping some words you read only a bit of the overall paper before crumbling the thing up and tossing it into the sink.

_**"..SCP Foundation and our staff we welcome you to an exciting. . ."** _

You already knew what was inside the white paper bag but that didn't stop your numb fingers from reaching towards the thing and pulling the tag off of it. Once the sticky tag was torn you opened the bag and pulled out the orange pill container. It held no print saying what it is.

_**"Unfortunately the** **exact** **details of your upcoming work. . . highly classified. . ."** _

All it had was your new name in black marker and how many you need to take. The lid was a child proof cap that had you struggling to open it, why did they have too child proof it? There's no kids here in Site-19 are there?

The thought of a 4 year old running around or being tested on made you sweat and drop the pill container. 

_**"make your stay as safe and** **please able** **as possible. . .Each of the Class D Personnel has been given a numerical designation. . ."** _

You banged your elbow on the counter trying to grab at the pills, the tiles on the floor are white with stripes colored black. The orange bottle was easy to spot thanks to the colors and when you stood up with the pills you finally twisted the cap open. Two rounded pills fell into your palm, they looked like pepto bismol pills with how they are rounded.

Chalk like to the touch and a off set pink you rolled them back inside the pill container and placed the bottle back onto the counter.

_**"your personal designation is D-9341. . . Please memorize your designation, as the staff will use it to refer to you from now on. . . "** _

From there you finally settle down onto the mattress. It felt like the extra bed your grandmother had in her guest room, springs push against your weight and into your legs. It smelled clean but also it smelled like nature thanks to you now. Everything felt normal almost. Like you where back at Site-█, where things are just as white and just as cold. But you don't have a shower and you don't have your sad little grey clearance card anymore.

Only this sad cold cell and the clearance card Julian placed on you.

_**"you will take part in various testing procedures. Some of them can be extremely** **dangerous** **if appropriate** **precautions** **are not taken. . .need your full cooperation..."** _

Wiggling your shoes off you fold your legs onto the springy bed and you place the shoe that held the clearance card on your pillow. It's now or never, with no camera inside the room to see you with the card you start to get into the slot you placed the thing inside of. In a sick way you hope it's a plain grey card, a level 00 card that only opens at most 3 doors and a janitor door. But some hopeful part in your gut twists with the idea of it being a yellow card. The one's that are leveled 1 to 3, those open more then just the latter's doors.

The yellow cards open air locks and the safer to handle SCPs.

Finally getting the sole open you sweat at any other card color. If it was a blue card which MTF Guard out there is missing their clearance card? Orange meant Julian stole the card from a high ranking researcher and....green? 

Is there a green clearance card? You're not too sure but you really wish for just a plain yellow card.

But there in your fingers, under the light of the cell you you pale and lose all the air inside your lungs.

A black clearance card LVL 05 Key-card glints in the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooo boy, this is my longest chapter so far!! I am trying to write each new chapter longer then the last one, anyways tell me your thoughts on this chapter and what you think might be happening!! I have a good idea of how I want to end this story but everything else is up in the air.
> 
> Which SCP would /you/ want too hook up with in the end too??


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you ask about that one fleeting thought-SCP-714- no one answers you right away. They look at each other and then turn to the other side. All of them are confused on what you said. "SCP-714? Has no one heard of it?" You stress out again.   
> The lady with the buzzed down hair answers you then, suddenly understanding. "The Jade Ring?" She sneers out with a gruff voice. 
> 
> Suddenly you get a feeling that D-Class don't call SCP by their labels.
> 
> "Did you. . . by any chance, used to work for the Foundation, [REDACTED]?"

Rotating your arm you've come to notice you've slimmed down. Staying in a small cell has you, more often then not, looking over yourself. Just yesterday you found a scab on your shoulder, a spring loose from your bed had nicked you and today you've found that you lost some weight. How much you don't know really, maybe a good 10 pounds from how tiny your wrists looked from before. 

Whatever the number may be it's not a nice thought to have noted about yourself.

Now you're starting to slim down and that may be a good thing but it can also be a bad thing. It all depends how one looks at it really.

Especially here within the Foundation where being healthy and well fit may be the only thing to keep you alive. 

Lowering your arm down it rested on your belly as you softly blinked at the dimming light over heard. That damn thing is always on, never once does it turn off for you too get a proper rest. Always on and always making that low hum all LED lights make, just a low thrumming always buzzing inside your cell and inside your bones. The only other sounds you can pick up are your cell mates. Some are talking inside their cells, insane and muttering soft words of the things that haunt them.

_("He had no eyes, no eyes. . .I have eyes? Don't I? Please, please. . .eyeeyeyeyeyeyeye. . . .")_

_("She's gone, she just. . .one touch and all she was is. . ..a stain. . .in the walls! He's in the walls. . . ! Oh Dear God. . . !")_

_("I need to see her. . ! Please, she loves me! Let me out, let me out, I sa **id let me out of this fucking cell!** ")_

Most of your cell mates seem like they're haunted by something, one way or another. After spending a month here it happens, especially to these other D-Class Personnel with you. Just like you, there are a rare few, more softer in tone and more quiet for being farther from your cell room, who just chatter. Too keep sane really, being alone for days on end is the worse the Foundation can do to someone.

No matter if they murdered 13 people and no matter if the worse they done was stumble into the Foundation.

_("Hello? Is anyone listening? I'm. . .I'm just scared. . . of going insane in here. . .")_

_(". . .I come from England, or at least my mother's side. . . .I moved here to start a new life,. . .it just. . .")_

_("I wish we can go. . . .unfair how. . . no, maybe. . . I'll die here. . . ")_

You haven't been picked for any testing so far, during your month as a new D-Class Personnel, however you know your time is coming. As the days drag on and the LED Light inside your room hummed on, the fate of being a test subject is drawing near. The heavy boots MTF Guards wear are always echoing in the hallways, they go off every hour of the day (which you don't know but it sure feels like it from how you wake up often thanks to how loud they have to be). You're cell mate next to you is often picked for something, whether it is testing or not, they always seem to be picked for whatever reason. They haven't said a word since you've moved in next door and they don't even knock back when you tired railing them for anything.

The most you've heard from them was a "I am ready." when MTF Guards dropped by to pick them up. Their voice was muffled so you're not too sure if it's the same gender as you or not, but you did get their name.

D-12847.

That's your cell mate and whoever they are they do not want to chat with you in any shape or form. It upsets you the first few days, you just want someone to chat with but it seems like you are once again left in the dark. Like with team Whales Red, no one wanted to talk either and now as a D-Class you are forced alone. (the small hug you gave SCP-4595-A flickered inside your mind, you had one willing friend. They wanted your hugs.)

Every so often, at a random time, a MTF Guard will be opening certain doors on certain days. "Lunch time!" he would shout, farthest from your door and then with a gun pointed at whoever's unlucky he would escort around 12 D-Class out to the lunchrooms. Most of the one's that lined up with your lunch days are female while at least two looked male. All of them looked different in all their own different ways. As you were closest to the door you lead your small group to the better cleaned hallways, where three other MTF Guards then took charge. In this white hallway where the tiles looked too polish and the walls too blank of anything. 

All them wore black and all them had these huge guns in their hands. 

As a researcher you remembered that their orders are simple: Protect the important people. Keep SCP's contained in anyway. [REDACTED] anything that is against order. 

Simple and short. Those are the rules each MTF Guard is given and told too follow, it _almost_ followed the rules Whales Red was handed in the very beginning too.

_(Study the SCP. Log it's activities within the testing. Do not disobey the order.)_

Everything about the guards speak and look of danger. Anyone who saw them outside of the Foundation would believe they are some sort of government enforcer, with the heavy padding and the guns. Which in some way, if you looked at a certain angle they are some sort of government enforcer.

But within the Foundation, when you see them escorting or containing something you just know they are meant for something far worse. They weren't just enforcers too the outside eye;but to those _inside_ the place they guard, they meant death. Suddenly being apart of the orange jumpers felt like sin. Whenever your group was being escorted too the baths or cafeteria you can spot a few white coats on the outer edges of the group. Over the sound of chains bumping together and grumbles behind you, the voices from these researchers bring memories from your time as a white coat.

(white coat. . . black suits. . . .stiff strides. . .when did you pick up D-Class lingo?)

They must look at you like a child does a ant hill. All neatly in a line, each escort outside of the cells, much like ants in a line. Many white coats saunter to the edges of the hallways too watch all of you walk by. Some had sneers on their faces, some had just blank looks as you march by and lastly, the newer researchers with the baby face and the colors shinning in their eyes look at you in horror. Because suddenly this place isn't what they thought it was. 

_(You looked the same as those few white coats. When Whales Red had too wait to the side as a grouping of D-Class Personnel walked by. From what you remember they went out for a group cleaning for SCP-173. Most of them where slouching over, hands cuffed and the chains linked to their ankles sounded loud in the walkways. But they looked starved and beaten down.)_

_("SCP-173? Is that a animal?"_

_"Oh right, you've just been recruited to the Foundation [REDACTED]."_

_"Didn't you read your papers? It's not a animal. For your luck let's hope you never need too meet that thing."_

_"It's a object we study. All you have too know is keep your eyes open. Blink little.")_

Unlike your 'new family' you are one of the few that don't pick fights with the guards. The lady at the far end is known too try and beat the living shit out of anyone who tries to drag her out of the cell. That's why the only two guards go in with a stun bat and from what her beaten face and bruised skin says, beat her with the shock sticks. She's fairly tall, enough too be a boxer but not tall enough too really install fear at first glance. She doesn't have any hair, all of her brown hair is buzzed as close too her skull as possible and whenever you try too look at her more she always glares at you with all the burning hate she has.

(you make sure to bow out of her way and so far she hasn't given you hell yet.)

Another lady, older then you by years, treats you more kindly then the rest. She's pale in skin color and her hair is in curls of blonde. She looks kind enough too make a good mother but when she tells you how she bit another D-Class Personnel for stealing her chocolate bar you start too worry. (If a D-Class Personnel performs [REDACTED] they get one day of special treatment. Better showers and one choice of sweet food) 

Everyone here smells of sweat and blood. Either from their own or from other's they all have that iron smell clinging onto their jumpers.

Soon yous will be the same as theirs.

* * *

The older lady, whose name is Elise Pratt (D-29448) became your mentor of sorts. She ended up explaining the 'rules' down in the D-Class Personnel. "Have your eyes always open. Never fight with other D-Class and trust no other class." Is what she rasped out too you one day. You don't tell her what you were before, you don't speak of how you've watched countless D-Class die just too test a SCP. You don't tell her any of this when she greets other D-Class with bright eyes and gleeful smiles. 

No, instead you keep your old job locked away. From how Elise talks about the White Coats you keep it tucked deep away from her and everyone else. 

"You know," Elise started the next time everyone went too the showers. She stood next too you, in the cold hallways waiting for her time inside the baths aswell. When you glanced at the short woman she gives a toothy grin before nodding slowly, "Every one has a reason as too why they've became a D-Class. What's yours huh?" She doesn't wear anything. Nether are you, both of you hold a thin grey towel in front of your bodies, Elise is pale in skin tone. But she has a tattoo of a cane on her shoulder. "My reasoning?" The older lady nods and the both of you turn too watch the shower doors open and someone else walks in.

The freshly cleaned one is pointed too a new spot too wait as a Guard grabs and drags a new person into the shower. Each person gets only 15 minutes inside. "I just dug into something I wasn't meant too is all." You mumbled under the sounds of boots and feet. The Guards stare you down out of everyone and you worry.

_(Do they know? Where they there? Did these MTF Guards see your downfall?)_

D-29448 is still talking, her words are slurred together inside your mind and you suddenly can't pay attention when she explains how she got here. She's old. Older then you clearly from the sun spots that litter her face and the graying hair. She looks like a kind mother and you hate her for this. D-29448 is a person you can easily hate. So what if she helped you here. In the reflection of a black visor you start to grow hateful. The MTF Guard cleaned and shined the fucking thing too mock you. A black mirror that reminded you how much you hate D-29448 and every human inside this place.

[DATA EXPUNGED] [DATA EXPUNGED] [DATA EXPUNGED]

The short time you're given too wash away any sweat and grime isn't enough. You rushed through cleaning your hair (missing a few spots and getting upset when you find out after you dry off) but the part you take the longest in was the soap bar. It had no clear smell, it just smelt. . .fresh and clean in a stomach twisting way. It's pale peachy color looked too bright in the grey shower room and the hot water scalding your back isn't happening you pay attention.

You drop the soap four times in total and you bang your elbow thanks too how cramped this shower was. There is no nobs too twist, nothing there too turn off the water or too lessen the spray either. 

You hate it here.

By the time you are outside and drying off, the towel was wrapped around your body (everything else can air dry), D-29448 is no longer near you. She's in the showers taking her bath and you stand with the few who are ready too be escorted back too the cells. They throw laughter around each other and let out jokes about certain things you can and will never come too know about.

They ignore you, standing too the side of them, and they go on to push and shove. These people are not what you're used too. All joy and laughter, no longer are you with the stiff workers and angry researchers. D-Class Personnel act as a family gathering together.

A joyous time when they march and party too their deaths one day.

(You are with them.)

You don't share the same reactions and emotions the other fellow D-Class do. That's why they've taken to keeping away from you. It's a known fact that [REDACTED] is under the Foundation eye and how _you_ haven't been too a single test yet. They all jump on that fact whenever they can. Only in numbers, never do they attack you alone. As if the Foundation would coddle and care for you if they try too harm you. (you think that maybe they would) "I hear that you haven't gone too any testing." Elsie--D-29448-- told you one day. She had three other women behind her.

The lunch table around you was empty but their glares and worried stances took up all the chairs. "I haven't. They have something big planned I am sure." You mumbled, your metal spoon pushed around the potato in the soup. In circles it went, much like the MTF Guards that keep a watchful eye on every D-Class in this lunch room. "Yeah sure, I had too go through a testing with SCP-3474. That fucking kid burned me!" One lady growled out, her brunt and messed up finger pointed down at you.

Swirling your soup around you glanced softly at the tray. You won't be eating anything today. Your wrist is getting skinnier each day and these group attacks on your first testing as you worried. " SCP-3474? They shouldn't have allowed you close with any objects that can catch fire." Is all you say before hell breaks loose with the brunt lady.

[DATA EXPUNGED]

Making new friends in a hostile place is hard. The bruise on your face speaks of it loud and clear. It seems like your new family doesn't think too highly of you and the fact that the one's who _did_ attack are suddenly missing doesn't get miss. Elsie is suddenly being nicer to you after she saw the attackers being dragged away, her friends and the few she thought as family are missing thanks to you. 

You catch her glares at you in the corners of your eyes and if you turn around fast enough you can catch the frown on her face melt into a smile. The hate for her grows and you wonder how she is still alive.

"Why do they watch you?" Elsie asked. She cornered you when you had your tray of mushed food. Glancing at the tray of metal you eyed the mushed potatoes and the shredded pork. She talked on about something but you grieve over the fact that your pork looks undercooked. It was also shredded which makes you ponder if it really _is_ pork at all. "Hey, hello." Elsie snapped out, she slammed her tray onto your table demanding your attention. When you finally drag your dull eyes too the older woman she had a mean sneer to her wrinkly face.

(you hate how she looks.)

Elsie is still staring at your face as your stir the mushed food slowly. Along with her stare you can feel the hive-like mind that is the MTF Guards, they too glare at your head. It looks like everyone within this area hates your guts. "I disobeyed the order." Is all you gave Elsie before shoveling as much food into you as you can. Like hawks diving to the ground MTF Guards swarm around your table and start to tug at your orange suit. Black gloves grab at your shoulders and pale hands with black sleeves tug away your spoon and tray. 

Elsie is left behind to watch as [REDACTED] is dragged away from the metal table. The tray you used thrown away and your mushed food was the only thing left where you sat. The older woman could hear the MTF Guards struggling to grab you properly as they dragged you down the halls.

Most likely too beat you to death's door.

Why can't you talk about anything?

* * *

Thanks to recent probing by Elsie, you haven't been able to get a good meal into you. Thanks to Elsie being a _fucking_ nosily old woman, you've lost more pounds then you'd like. Fat that used to be on your arms and legs have slimmed down a lot where the bones under flesh are starting to jut out. You'll be more bones then fat soon. But you can still eat, if you shovel the food into your mouth fast enough you can start gaining that lost fat back.

The reflective windows in surrounding doors (when you are escorted out) paints you as a different person-someone who is _too_ skinny to be you. With dull colored eyes and matted hair. This person within the windows and little mirrors, is not you. 

This █████ is not you. █████ is not you. ████ cannot be you and it's a image that you refuse to accept.

How can you become that thing in the reflective windows?

How did you allow this path to happen?

How can you?

When you finally take another look at the Black Card is the day after Elsie forcing you to lose another meal. (It's been a total of 3 weeks already since the first time and as those days stacked up you wonder how bad of a punishment it will be if you choke the woman to death) With wrists too skinny you wiggle the card out from your shoe. In the dull and flickering LED light you flip the high key card around, it was still glossy as ever. No damage has been made from being under the sole of your shoe, only a small smudge of your fingerprints over the black tone.

From what you can recall (what feels like another life) the Black 05 Card is the highest earning card anyone in the Foundation can get. Almost all locked doors and caged SCPs can be opened with just a swipe of this card, grasped in your hands and sometimes shoved into your shoe. Eyeing the door to your cell you wondered if this card can also open your room. Surely not _every_ locked door with open for this card? There _has_ to be a door that _will not_ open for this 05 card?

There is only one true way to test this out and that's to actually swipe the Black Card on a lock pad. But they normally log what card swiped into what. Is this site one of the places that keeps track what card opens what door? Or are they the ones who don't track this and instead track **solely** SCPs and D-Class only?

Each question has you nervous and looking at the bright black contrast to the white has you shoving the highly sought after card back into your shoe, between the sole and snug out of the way. Kicking the shoes as far as you can you curled up onto your bed, shivering under the thin scratchy fleece blanket. 

(you made sure the card can't slip out somehow, you made sure of it. Who knows what things will happen if another D-Class Personnel finds the card? or a MTF Guard who happens to spot the black colors on the white tiles?)

(Then the panic thought smacks into your chest, heaving breathes leave you as you warily watch your door, as if they can hear your wondering thoughts)

_**(what if they trace it to you?)** _

[DATA EXPUNGED] [DATA EXPUNGED]

Next time the idea of the Black 05 crosses your mind is when your little groupee is being escorted outside. To get some fresh air, even if it's nipping cold air at █AM in the morning. "Stand aside everyone! SCP passing by! **Do not** reach for the SCP." The Guard in front of you yells out the words so loud your ears pop. With some shuffling and the sounds of chains rattling together you and the rest of the D-Class filter into one side of the hallway, into one of those encoves that keep you out of the way of the main hallway, all of you glance down the hallway. 

They murmur behind you about what SCP it could be, ideas thrown about and whilst a few that are said are familiar to you the rest are just unknown. One that they cittered about was SCP-3535? Whatever that is it seems to be deadly in some way. A word from a D-Class from the back just tells you its a parasitic species of plant which expresses multiple anomalous traits and properties of sorts? When you twist around to look at them they look smarter then the rest. But the MTF Guard with you yanks on your cuffs and that's all you know about that person.

Why would SCP-3535 be escorted down here if that's the case? Having parasitic species somewhere inside this site doesn't seem like a smart idea on anyone's part. (Faintly you recall the Black 05 Card, if you can open the locked door that _happens_ to hold SCP-3535 maybe you can use it as a sort of **Containment Breach** and make your great escape....to somewhere.)

But what does happen to be escorted isn't something you or really anyone wants to see. (well maybe you do want to see him, he is more human like and even if he might have been drugged at the time he was a lot more polite then others around you.) 

He came shuffling down the white hallway, chains that kept him caged rattled loudly and echoed into your bone. Unlike your fellow Class Personnel you didn't lean far away from the hallway. They squished as much as they could against the walls and shuffled any part of them far into the small scooped out area. Faintly you can hear Elsie begging for you to lean back with her, that this thing will kill you and then true hell will start.

**If. You. Do. Not. Lean. Away.**

At least moments, when the foot falls can be heard and the chains are too loud do you smack your back into the area, a wheezing breathe pass your shoulders but none of that matters.

So what if you smacked into Elsie. So what if you could've crushed her chest into her lungs. So what if you could've killed the old woman there.

All that matters is the blue eyes of SCP-049 as he catches your gaze. 

He still looks the same from all those days ago. Black garbs and a white doctor's plague mask. Colored bone white and it just makes the only colorful part of him stand out more.

Blue eyes.

Someone gasps from behind you and when they grab a hold of your orange sleeve you don't hesitate to ram a sharp elbow into their chest. "Let go." You hiss out, struggling to free your arm. The passing SCP-049 has a small panic break out. With your struggling movements the connecting chains to all the D-Class Personnel as them thinking SCP-049 got a hold of them.

In that moment a lot of things happen.

Firstly, you realize who it is that grabbed you and who it is that you hit-Elise. You still struggle to get her to let go as she gasps for air that you not so kindly knocked out of her.

Secondly, the rattling chains from Elise and you has the other Personnel panic as they can't tell if _you_ had been grabbed or _Elsie_ had been grabbed by SCP-049. So they start to yank on their cuffs and lean away from you two. Which doesn't help in you leaning against the force and Elsie being tugged between the two forces.

Thirdly, the MTF Guards that were escorting you start to yell, adding onto the noise and then they start to yank everyone they can grab. The on in front of you grabs onto your other arm and yank with you whilst the ones behind Elsie help tug in the other direction. 

Lastly, SCP-049 suddenly lunges forward with his cuffed hands open and reaching for the nearest person within his gaze. Which happens to be both you and the MTF Guard. His chains clatter and clash the loudest out of everything, but his voice sounds like honey dripping off a spoon to your ears. Like a soothing balm on your hot skin.

What he says isn't anything nice like you hear, something about people being sick but his honeyed words are slurred from his sedation. 

During all this panic you caused, you think of one thing only. With SCP-049's black leather gloves closing in on the MTF Guard's shoulder-with Elsie still gasping out loudly next to you-with the sudden slip of your foot you --

**SCP-714**

The thought passes through the jumbled mess of yells and chains and doesn't expand farther then that. When Elsie finally catches her breathe she yanks you towards her with a force only powered by anger. You refuse too catch her glaring eyes and instead watch as SCP-049, even if he is drugged, overpower his handlers and choke MTF Guard Nikole. His wrists are cuffed together, so the fact that he was able too even get his palms around the man has you impressed.

"What are you doing?" Elsie hissed out venom laced her words and she yanked on the chains connecting the two of you. Your arms pull to her ways but you stay firm where you stood. The handlers of SCP-049 are struggling to pull the scp off Nikole. The doctor doesn't seem to care either like you. The two of you are both being pulled towards a direction but the two of you don't budge. Finally one of the handlers lets go of his pole and starts to call back up as only one is left with the man power to try and pull of this roughly 1.9 meters tall scp.

It's a power struggle he loses when SCP-049 in a sluggish way tugs the handler to his deadly grasp. He grasps something about everyone being infected with the Pestilence in his slurry honeyed voice. "Listen I don't care what you did to be me but we have to leave, **now!** " Elsie had won this tug-o-war with you too at this moment. 

As you are forced to leave your gaze wonders back to SCP-049. He doesn't glance back at you (why did you think he would) but he kneels there on the white tiles next to the two dead MTF Guards. Elsie is babbling something in your ear like a buzzing annoying nat and when you glare down to the woman with all the hate you have you suddenly wished SCP-049 had choked this woman to death instead. ".....it was a close call. Better he got them then us but you're so fucking stupid.." Elsie is ranted away about your refusal to move **away** from the threat. "Yes, if I recall anything he touches died." You gravel out to the woman.

Suddenly she looked like a ghost. Like your words have opened the skies in her world. "I am not some dumb D-Class Personnel." You hiss out as the panicked group and one MTF Guard round a corner. The lights flicker overhead and Elsie is staring at your skinny frame with wide eyes. "Shame that he missed, isn't it?" You finish off with a sneer.

Elsie doesn't say a word after that and even the fast paced walk grind on your shot nerves. The group makes it back into their cell hallway but the MTF Guard doesn't free anyone yet, only locking the closest person to the wall and locking the hallway behind him as he rushes back too SCP-049.

No one says anything, they all stand there still as can be but unlike them you stare down at Elsie. She shuffles away and that movement causes everyone to start talking. "What happened back there?" One starts, "SCP-049 killed them didn't it? What if he breaks loose?" Another continues, "It can't! He is still chained up!" another goes off and from there everyone is clustered together in a panic. 

At some point Elsie glares at you back and in the lull of the panic chat she braces her self to throw you under the buss. "I tripped." You shout out scaring everyone and you still under their wide glaze. "The MTF Guard...who got grabbed..he made me slip." Elsie hasn't spoken up and with a bold move you point out to the old lady. "She had me panic and kick one of the handlers foot! That's how SCP-049 got loose!" 

You face away from the angry crowd around Elsie. You ignore her shouts and attempts of freeing herself from her friends. They tore into her with spiteful words and seething looks. You don't get any of it and so _what_ if Elsie hates you starting today? Maybe she would've been spared if she just left you alone. 

None of this matters and as they drone on in the background your eyes drift to your black shoes. If only you had pick-pocketed the MTF Guard for a key you could escape but for now here you are chained up with the D-Class Personnel.

"Shame he missed.." You mumbled thinking about blue eyes and bone colored masks.

Why do you smell lavender?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, my college classes has started but at the same time in a horrible way of thinking, the classes makes me want to work. So maybe the upcoming chapters will turn out better or longer! Who knows, but thank you everyone who has bothered to read my story! 
> 
> What part of this chapter surprised you? or which person within this story is the most interesting?


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't notice when the dead researcher inside of you comes back. Not at first, but the soothing encouragement it gives you when you stand behind this young chick has you easily following it's words.
> 
> Suddenly you don't feel attached to your body as you slam her into the tiled floors and the cheering from the researcher has you drowning out the girls screams for help.
> 
> Why would any of her words matter when the good for the Foundation is being echoed to you?
> 
> So what if she may die from the drink? Says the researcher that echoes inside of you.   
> Not like she's important anyways, she's a simple D-Class...and you? Well you're the researcher that helps the good of the Foundation! It cooed out.

Listening into the other's conversations was easy-they blabbed so loudly and said everything that came forth in their minds. Just like you recall, all of these D-Class were so simple minded....you didn't know where you stood in that sense but you didn't start out in the orange jumpers like they did. So the wool is pulled over their eyes and not so much yours. "...breach containment?" Was the ending you've caught ahold of and what had you joining them finally.

"No, he was drugged." You jumped in, the sudden addition of your raspy words scared most of the D-Class Personnel. (you don't notice Elsie jump) "He couldn't have, _unless_ the MTF Guards within this site are not suited for breaches?" You questioned hounding on these poor souls stuck with you. They all glanced at one another, shocked that finally you've spoken without the trouble that echoed behind your words. 

Everyone chained with you knew how Elsie isn't on your good notes and how the Foundation has a sharp eye on your figure, so the sudden attack by SCP-049 is the safest way for you to just...

_speak._

The tallest woman you've ever seen nods, her buzzed hair had you recalling the feisty woman from _oh_ so long ago. "They are equipped for such procedures." She stepped forward no nerves within her tall frame as she stepped closer to you. From the old life you lived (it feels like you've died and came to Hell) she is the sort of leader of the pack, always fighting MTF Guards and the fact that her height is so tall adds onto this theory. 

Whether she gets any benefits for leading this rag tag group is left in the air as the woman raises her tanned hands too gesture. " _First of all_ , with what you've stated and how no one here," she moves her hands to point at herself then behind her to the others, she says something else but your mind isn't all there really so you've blanked out once her fast hand movements catch the glare of the red lights.

".....you clearly know of the Plague Doctor." There you furrow your brows together, she is also thrown for a loop on the flash of confusion that paints your face. "SCP-049?" You murmur softly at the woman and there, also, you spot your first mistake. 

"You _were_ a White Coat?" Elsie gasps out and there chains clatter together and the other D-Class attached to your cuffed hands shout in anger and whatever else emotion they could have. The leader doesn't say anything only her face sharpens to a point and you can see the spark of a plan forming. Everything that was exposed here was a terrible thing and when the blaring of the intercoms kick in you all drown out the words.

"A White Coat here within the D-Class rankings...what happened I wonder?" The tanned woman mumbled out the flashing of red turns her shadows to purple. "Names Alex, now tell me [REDACTED], why did you wait for the SCP to get that close?" She leaned down into your face and the whole scary act she throws at you has you frowning. You couldn't shuffle away since her hands held tightly onto the chains that kept you all chained to one another.... which kept you, _unfortunately,_ close to her body. _" **Look** ,"_ You hiss out and turn your face away, "I just wanted a peak at him if you all just didn't _panic_ this wouldn't have happened." At the end you turn your hateful glare to Alex but it was thrown behind her-at Elsie.

Alex leaned away, hands still curled around your cuffs, and glanced at Elsie. "I see you've got some troubles with Elsie.." She huffs out with a sneering smirk at you both. Elsie first then it softened up at you. "But I've gotta say, you do know how to hit. Do they teach you these things little one?" She jostled your chains and your arms followed the movement she made. "Sure, whatever, my jobs sorta requires the experience in case of a attack." You shake your wrists letting the silence after your words be filled in with your shiny silver chains and cuffs.

Your thin wrists are rubbed raw from them. "Are we just going to let it go?" Elsie squeaked out, she flinched under your stare and to her it looks eerily like a White Coat. "Yes." Both Alex and you agree and that alone causes the other's to protest. Alex turns her back on you to defend why this will be glossed over and as you trace her slightly broader back you think of the whole- _'never turn your back on a backstabber'_ -and that makes your hands crave the heavy feel of a silver freshly cleaned knife.

"That will be the end of this!" The gruff shout Alex makes shuts everyone else up. The few males within the chains grumble and hiss and the rest of the females softly nod but frown anyways. Looks like you've made a ally out of Alex, which is good in the sense that if the other D-Class bother you maybe she will be your saving grace.

Makes you wonder if she views you the same but replace D-Class with SCPs instead.

When she turns around you spot the scars on her face and the freckles too. "Tell us about the Doctor, _anything._ " She demands out of you. She has a glare to her brown eyes and you can see they shine in the red warning lights. " **Well,** " You grind out dragging out the 'L' sound. "His proper name, mind you, is SCP-049 and I didn't really work on him." Alex looks confused but when you see Elsie in the corner she opens her mouth in a 'O' and there you understand she is just a hair smarter. 

"My other team members were the ones who attended his study. All I was told is that anything SCP-049 touches dies and that he will then do a surgery of sorts and that once dead person becomes a zombie, a SCP-049-2." You know the ending is a bit confusing to these dumb monkeys but it is the proper way to call the zombies. You have a shimmer of hope they will use your far better wording over their more simple titles. "SCP-049-2? That's a mouthful..." Alex grumbles out her arms cross over her chest as she tips her head back to think over your info.

It wasn't a lot and with the warning lights being switched off you know your time is slowly coming to a end.

With a snap of your arms, the fast movement causes the chains too clash into the piping nearby in a loud bang. Everyone turns to look at you, most flinching and without a moment to waste to yell at them all. "The Foundation has some sort of plan with me! So I am unable to really speak a lot about a lot of things!"

You can hear the foot falls of a MTF group drawing closer to you.

"Do not! and I mean _do not!_ repeat anything I've said regarding any SCPs! The Foundation are watching me and **_solely_ **me!" Your words dip into a lower tone as the intercom over head comes to a end as well. Alex stares you down, her lips pulled into a frown and sadly the soft look she gives you reminds you of how pretty Julian looked in the snow.

It was almost the same, with Alex having the backdrop of the white walls in the D-Class Personnel. She looked so unfairly pretty even with her scared lips and the dull look she gives you. 

Just as the swipe of a card floods the room she nods and the other's follow suite. "Sure, we'll keep it under key." Elsie was the last to nod at you, she only started to nod when the MTF Guards started to escort everyone into their cells. Elsie only nodded back at your glaze when Alex grabbed ahold of her arm and snarled something to her.

You didn't get too catch the fight since two MTF Guards turned you around and forced you back into your tiny lonely cell. The fight between a MTF Guard and Alex broke out but it sounded muffled when you read the sign on your cell mates door. 

**"EMPTY"**

Then you were pushed inside the room, hitting your knee on the edge of your bed. The door slid shut behind you and there the sound of buzzing took over. Standing alone in your cold cell has you thinking about all those pretty faces you've ran into. Julian and his sharp features that matches his smiteful words, Nessie and her rounded softness, Alex and in her scars and tanned freckled and lastly the honey coated words of SCP-049.

Your idea of handsome and pretty is skewed to hell if SCP-049 was added onto it along with Julian. But you are someone who can see beauty when it's in front of you. Surely you're not the only one whose thought of SCP-049 as a pretty penny? (while you've it's rumored that SCP-049 cannot take off the mask he wears that doesn't matter, so long as he just talks anyone can agree) Shuffling over to your cot, shoes are left behind by the foot of the hanging bed before you settled down heavily into the thing. Rubbing the red marks on your wrists everything is now slowing down.

Muffled shouts from cell mates being shoved into cells fill in the silence of your room and the memory of SCP-049 lunging for the man comes forth as well. Him and his blue eyes that haunt you late into the nights when everything is colored black you can see him standing in the halls with his blue eyes and now you can see him there too. But this time he had a hand reaching for you with his honey gazed words murmuring to you as well.

Drifting off into sleep you pretend that SCP-049 isn't want you dream about. You pretend he isn't touching your throat with his deadly gloves and turns you into a SCP-049-2. Him in the lead as he sings softly down the empty white halls with you tumbling and fumbling around as a SCP.

* * *

Waking up you're greeted by phantom pains in your back and hips. You're not sure what can cause these aches and how your muscles feel sore and pulled. Sitting up in bed feels like a struggle, the muscles didn't want to work with you. Screaming in pain as you lean forward on your elbows and knees. Bruises letter your arms when you rolled the sleeves up and the purple makes your wince.

The urge to poke the bruises also rises up but you stomp on the craving. This didn't happen from what you caused yesterday did it? If it was you'd noticed right away! Not only that but no one really bumped into you hard enough for the bruises too appear. Then you remember the odd dream and suddenly it doesn't feel like it was a dream at all-but just another part of your life.

That you did end up getting choked in a hallway when the lights were flickering and when the Breaching Alarm wasn't blaring. As you sit up in your bed your hips ache as well, faintly in your fading dreams you can recall that something shot you in the hip when you were a SCP-049-2. 

Hazy memories fled your mind as you slowly woke up, everything in that dream felt a little too real suddenly but at the same time it couldn't be real. You were still inside your cell room, with irritated wrists from when you wore cuffs yesterday! None of the aches in your skin are making sense and sure enough when you sallow your throat screams in pain as well.

Like you've been choked in the past 7 hours.

Shockingly no suit comes strolling into your cell and no MTF Guard opens your cell too drag you away. After all you did break the protocol when you let SCP-049 kill two Guards. But then _again_ maybe they won't blame you? Maybe they'll think SCP-049 has started too build a immunity to the doses of drugs they give him? (won't surprise you) or they'll say it was his Handler's faults?

_(after all with one sloppy lunge he was able too slip free)._

None of this is making any sense from the aches you have and when no one comes collecting you. In the end you stay sitting in your bed, jumper rolled up in the sleeves and legs. The bruises certainly go more then what you can expose and the whole thing makes your mind hurt trying too figure out why.

Why are there bruises in the shape of cuts? Why are there bruises in the shape of hands? Why does your hip ache like you've been shot? **_Why does it feel like you've choked and died in a hallway?_**

Finally you check one last thing before you just end up sleeping away. The shoe that held your Black Card is grabbed and pulled towards you, it has some dirt and other grim stuck too it but otherwise it looks just the same as any other day. Sticking your fingers under the sole and past the hard outside rubber you felt around for the important card. When you still couldn't find the card, harsh and quick panic slammed into your lungs. 

Suddenly your aches thrummed even more and your bruises suddenly told a story. 

That you've lost the card and the reason why you're so black and blue is because they've found out _about the card and now this will truly be the end for you-_

With shaking fingers and a aching wrist you dug into the shoe even more in hopes that the card is still there-the side of the card hit your nail then and with some effort you were able too pull the card into view of your cell room. It had some blood dried on it and while you skipped over it in your calming panic just seeing the harsh Black Card 05 lettering is letting you calm down from your high.

It's still in your possession and that's all that matters.

_(you eye the blood on the white bottom of the card, when you run your finger over it you get the shock that the blood there is very much real)_

_(The card goes back into it's hiding spot, where it's snug away and not getting free anytime soon, and a quick glance at your feet proves it isn't your blood)_

**_(the dream you had comes back and you worry yourself asleep)_ **

* * *

Alex is now replacing the spot Elsie used too. She's not too scary after a few days spent under her gaze. You'll consider that a win in this fucked up world, better then whatever shit Elsie often sneered at you. Guess in the end Elsie assumed you were fresh meat to this world of SCPs, as the saying goes with assume can't spell the word without making a ass out of you 'nd me. 

On the showering days Alex will coax you into talking-not about your time as a white coat, since they are always watching-about your past life. Before the Foundation found you, before all this mess as your life now. "You're a D-Class now, this is the bottom of the barrel." Alex explained when she say you frown at her idea. A glance too the guards standing around then too the shower doors you give Alex a taste. A tiny taste of your past life, "I always wanted a easy life growing up." 

From there you can see her eyes gleaming, proud she was able too get something out of you. (it's a bet on the other D-Class--who can get the strange one to talk?) She's not holding the towel in front of her, no shame too cover up her chest her anything really. You've seen it all so the most you give her is a glance over before looking down at yourself.

Making sure that your towel is covering everything and not showing the world your goods. 

Alex is laughing at your act when you continue too talk, "My town wasn't all that big or maybe it was and I just never saw of it like that." You mumble near the end wide eyes staring at the movement a MTF Guard makes. Gods above any movement from them has you tense and full of stress. They still haven't bothered too fetch you over the problem with SCP-049. 

Whilst it is a good thing to you it just makes you worry.

When will they get you?

Will they question you?

_Will they shoot you?_

_Will they **have a SCP--**_

"Wow, never went out much or what?" The harsh gravelly sound of Alex's voice had you quickly glancing at the tall woman. She uses this moment too glare at the other Guard who seems to be watching you back. "Never went out much." You answered and there was a lull in your talk with the woman. In that small dip of silence the other D-Class beside you both are pulled into the showers. After them it will become your turn and dully you note that the waters will be a little to hot for your comfort. 

Alex is back to watching you before she uses a tan hand to fiddle with a ear lobe. It has a nasty scar that can only mean a infected ear piercing. "Ah well, was it a pretty town?" She asks finally after removing her hand from her old scar. "Yeah, the sunsets looked nice. Something you'll see in a award wining photoshoot." and that was the last of the small talk. You were shoved into a shower and Alex was pulled towards one. 

In the showers there was no right or left knob for you too adjust the hotness or the pressure of it as well. Just a showerhead that is trying too scald you in a white tiled room with the drain looking too small under your bare feet.

One thing that helps is that the unknown reason you've got beaten black and blue is now being soothed under the hot waters. Tense shoulders are drooping and sore muscles are relaxed now in the steamy room. 

The downfall? You don't have enough time to really enjoy any of this. With quick hands you wash your hair first then scrub your skin down with a scratchy bar soap. The sugar inside the soap leaves some bruises aching and throbbing in pain but a D-Class can't be fretting over _that._

By the time you walk out Alex looks dry. Her skin doesn't have that shiny look to it when water is still on you. "Took your time, but that's because ol' Elsie caused a problem." She snickered out watching you tighten the towel around you. With little to no shame she used her own towel to dry your hair.

As weird as it is, having her stand there without a care that she's naked- _then using her towel to dry you_ \- you let it happen. Alex is gentle when she rubs out the water from your hair before roughly pressing the towel into your face. With a muffled noise you push her towel out of your face, ready to yell at her but Alex's soft smile has you blanking.

"She fell, you know how old people are? Can't believe she's still kicking! Especially in this fucking hell!" She laughed out turning around and placing the towel over her shoulders. 

You follow behind her in line; to the small rooms you'll be lead to so you may wear those orange jumpers again.

_(your skin is getting used to the itchy feel those things have.)_

Sadly, your jumper is a size too big. The sleeves are rolled up so your hands can be seen and then Alex helps you with your legs since you can't cuff those correctly. "Yeah, they don't really give you the correct sizes." Alex grumbles out, she is in the dressing room with you and two other D-Class. **(you don't count the 4 MTF Guards with you as well)**. "Looks like you've got a correct size." You mumbled out upset that the taller chick got her size.

Alex shrugs at you, face in a sneer as she tugs and pulls at the collar. "Yeah sorta. The collar is too small for my liking but it's whatever." She bends over to tie her shoes and you slowly follow her lead. Before a D-Class is allowed to shower they have to strip down everything and hand it over to a MTF Guard who then places it in a box to be left in a tiny dressing room.

From there after the showers the D-Class is assigned to their dressing room with their box and allowed to dress before they get escorted back to the cells. 

Which sounds okay if you were a _normal_ D-Class and not one carrying the **highest** Key Card one can get within the Foundation.

Seeing your shoes makes you sweat. Especially the one that hides said key card. They are still dirty, carrying dirt from all those months ago when you meet SCP-4595. They still have that unexplained bloodstain as well.

Whether they still hide that keycard you don't know. At least not when Alex is standing near you watching and not when those four other D-Class are in the same room.

Your cell is the only safe place to really check.

Once your shoe is safely slipped on you glance up at Alex. She's giving you a lop sided grin and that moment you wonder.

As you get cuffed together with the other D-Class, you think of Alex.

As you line up with the other D-Class, Alex behind you, you think of how Alex is treating you. Like a old friend seeing you again.

As you pass that fateful hallway where SCP-049 haunts your dreams, you think of how maybe you can tell Alex that you have a way to escape.

At your cell you check for the card. It takes an extra pull to get it out but the card is still on you. It still has that gleam to it when you turn it towards the lights. The edges are still clean cut, like it was just freshly made out of the factory and you wonder if it really was just made before being forced onto you.

When you tuck it back into your shoe you wonder how Julian even got ahold of the card. Laying down, smelling of lemons you throw the blanket over you and think of your ex-coworker. He was never in a position to gain the high level key card. Maybe in 50 years Julian would be in the running line for the card but what you can remember and understand only the High Counsel members have level 05 cards.

The Foundation members. High Counsels. The Stiff Suits.

Those people. The ones that really run the place.

_(you think so at least, being in a cell for this long has your memory as a researcher blurring and fading)_

_(it's why the highest card is called a 05. Right?)_

You end up rolling over and falling asleep, dreaming about the black card and Alex.

Dreams that could very much happen but a small part of you, the one that is still angry at the Foundation, is saying she'll betray you once she sees the black card in your hands.

That she'll corner you in a hallway and take it by force. Leaving you stuck in those white walls of a maze, other SCPs loose in there with you and locking the sliding doors behind her and trapping you to death's door.

_(when you wake up you spot a strange web being made in the corner of your room with the number 1006 flashing in your mind)_

* * *

The next time you are allowed outside of the cells was during a experiment with SCP-3151, when asked about the SCP no one answered you. In a set of 4 you followed the other unknown D-Class into the testing room. White walls with grey tile floor. When they unhooked everyone from the silver cuffs it was just you four D-Class in a small room.

Chairs lined a table and on that white table is bottles with different colors on the brand paper. 

You were the last one to walk towards the testing table, the others all watched and stared at you with sneers. "Just sit down already, it's faster newbie." One burly man growled out his arms cross over on top of the table.

_(right these people don't know)_

_(at least in the sense_ you _know.)_

Your seat is in front of this rude man. His hair is too long for his wide face and his cheeks sag to the floors. "Right, sorry." You mumble turning your attention to the SCP bottles. "Cut them some slack man, this is their first time in a test." A slimmer man comes to your defense but that isn't known to you.

The bottle looks like a 1900's soda pop bottle, clear glass which is fairly thick when you grab the thing and turn it around. During this time the other's stop their gossip over you to gawk at what you've done. None of this is seen by you instead the label reading **'Movie in a Bottle - the Next Stage in the Entertainment Vision from Westhead Media'** is what catches your eyes.

It looks faded and sun bleached and whatever that tiny text on the bottom says is too faded to make out. "I think it's a bottle which plays a movie?" You offer, finally glancing up and seeing the shocked faces of the two men and one women. "Why did you..?" The young girl gasps out tucking herself far from you and the slimmer man flinches over your stare. "Hey now, I understand you're not used to this but we're supposed to wait for the White Coats to tell us what to do." He's the only one to reach out to you.

As his pale hands reach for you, you wonder why they can be so scared. Everyone in this room is doomed to die at some point, so what if you just _speed that up?_

The burly man just watches as the other man makes you lower the glass bottle onto the table once more. The bottle you looked at has a bright blue colorations that faint glows when the liquid is sloshed around. "Right, my bad." You tuck your hands back under the table and stare at the other three bottles that sit with the one you grabbed. 

This SCP is unknown to you and in a way it makes you break out into a cold sweat. Will some angry demon appear once the bottle is opened? Will it try and eat your flesh?

_(it couldn't be a demon that eats flesh because the whole 'Movie in a Bottle' is in bold yellow letters)_

Maybe it's throw you into the movie and you'll be forced to live the film?

Whatever Gods are listening you hope you get a Disney film of sorts.

**"Welcome to SCP-3251 Testing #5."** A speaker crackles to life somewhere from within the walls. In a way it feels familiar to you. **"In this testing you will be tasting one bottle from your pickings. If you fail to comply we will terminate you."** The girl to your right flinches and fumbles with her fingers. The movement catches your eyes and you stare her down.

 **"Once you've picked a SCP-3151 consume the liquids inside and the real study will occur."** She twists the loose skin on her knuckles to the point were when we lets go the skin is a red hue. "Stop staring..." She begs and you comply only because her weak attitude has you pissed off. How she made it this far as a D-Class makes you want to study her.

Makes you wish you still had that pristine _white coat_ that'll allow you to pick her apart. 

With one swipe from you, you hold the bottle that faintly glows a bright blue. The man in front of you holds a dark brown liquid that looks like aged wine, in the terrible nasty sense. He's chuckling and waving the capped bottle like it's a beer bottle, "One good thing I've gotta say that came from this place is that I'm no longer a alcoholic but boy do I miss it." He has yellow teeth and that alone makes your nose crinkle.

The timid girl is cradling a black liquid, this bottle unlike the other's has a bit of the tiny text on it. "The Opening of.....something?" She mumbles confused on what movie that could be. She's twirling it in circles in her hands and she looks a little to calm on the bottle she picked. "You picked the one with a black color?" You ask doubtful that the thing is safe. 

She doesn't answer but her twirling does stop.

"Mine is a green color, which seems pretty safe right?" The last man asks holding up his glass bottle. It catches the lights over head and the label paper looks the most sun bleached. "If anything I'd say yours-" He tips the bottle cap to you, the liquid making a weird plop sound from inside, and everyone else looks at your faintly glowing bottle. 

The brute is the first to speak up after that, "Newbie, I hope you know that certain SCPs can kill you in ways that cannot be explained. _Yours_ looks like it'll boil you." He grunts out as his bottle is the first to be popped open. "I think I choose safely." You hiss out watching the man take a massive swing. The others shrug under your heated gaze.

When he doesn't respond everyone else but **you** start to worry. The inner researcher inside is waking up and it rears it's plain face when the bottle is leaking past his lips and down his throat. It stains his orange jumper and his D-Class number is lost in the dark liquid that spills. "Is he _dead?"_ The young girl shouts out staring wide eyed at the brute. "Dear God, I hope not!"

None of this matters when the sudden movement of the girl placing her bottle down has you focused onto her. " _I-I don't trust this..!_ " She gasps out tears spring into her eyes and it floods the rim of her lids and the other man is also placing his bottle back onto the table. 

_(the craving from the dead researcher inside you has come back alive. It's baring teeth at you and hissing to conduct this experiment since D-Class are just too_ dumb _to do the simple task given to them)_

The first man is still unresponsive even as the slim man checks for a pulse. Under the panic the two felt neither notice you standing up and switching your bottle with the black liquid.

As the girl leans forward to help the other man they don't see you pop the cap off SCP-3151 and suddenly there's yelling.

_(The researcher has it's sharp claws dug into your jumper and it's cheering you on as you yank the young girl's head back by her brown curls.)_

_(" **yes!"** it chants in a gleeful tone, " **yes! Make her take SCP-3151! How else will the Foundation know what it does?"** It calls out in joy as you pin the girl down)_

Who knew holding someone down with a opened bottle is harder then you'd think. The girl under you is clawing at your jumper and is flat out crying as you yank and pull at her hair to get the girl to open her mouth. "PLEASE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She's sobbing now as you place a heavy knee on her chest bone. "Open up. Open up, you bitch." Is what you answer her with as she tries spilling the black liquid out of your palm.

The slim man is frozen to his chair, the brute man still his main focus even if you are attacking his friend. "HEY! HEY!" He's shouting now and the angry researcher inside you is craving for this knowledge.

To see what _will happen_ if she drinks this black liquid.

Will she be unresponsive too? _Will she die?_

Does she have to sallow the drink or does she just need to taste it?  
  
  


Either way you will find out even if you have to shove the glass neck down her throat because the researcher inside you demands to know 

what

will

happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I didn't make it clear, that "researcher" that is cheering you on to attack the female D-Class is you.  
> Your past life as a researcher.  
> You know, the one that you thought died during your life as a D-Class.
> 
> I always thought that maybe you'll still have that "craving" for knowing what a SCP does even if you, yourself, are a D-Class.
> 
> How do you feel about this chapter?


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's strange seeing the same movements like the one from before your death. They say almost the same words as that time but at the same time you catch when they say something new.   
> Only meant for this new life you have.
> 
> It's strange and new and you're not sure if you want to dip your toes into this deep pool.

The MTF Guards rushed inside as quick as the sliding door let them. In your buzzing mind you couldn't hear the key slot confirming accuse until there was rough gloves grabbing at you. When you felt them grabbing at your orange suit you started to kick and pull against them. 

Anything to let them unhand you right now.

_I'm a researcher! Unhand me! What are you doing?!_

Those words echoed in your mind and they almost wiggled out too if it wasn't for a flash of orange. It was the orange of your right sleeve and right when you came to your right state of mind your head was hit against the white floors. The impact of your skull had you clinking your teeth shut. Your old life shouldn't be shouted in front of these 3 no bodies. Even if one of them is unresponsive to everything that is happening, the other two are there for the most part. Witnessing your mental breakdown. Like those fucking cameras that are hidden in the walls. The ceiling. Hell even the floors!

With no gentle bones in their bodies the guards shove and held you face down onto the tiled floors. It was skin chilling which had goose bumps dotting all over your skin as you seethe in to the floor. The harsh coldness that pressed into your heated skin has you calming down but not the growing seed of hate. The ruffled feathers are now gently laying down and you ask yourself, how did they sneak past?

They twisted your arms behind you to the point where your joints all pop and then they've got a hand tangled into your hair to force your right cheek on the dirty dirty floors. The birds nest they will leave you to deal with makes your anger burn and blister a little longer.

_(don't they know detangling with just your fingers and sink water isn't easy?)_

"What the fuck!" The boy finally shouted, from his place at the table. He still has a single hand on his buddy but the other hand is gripping his loose hair. "What the fuck was that?" he went on still shaken to his core, either way his whinny cursing is hurting your head. He doesn't look too strong now that you are eyeing him from under a MTF Guard.

You want to ask him to shut the hell up and you would've if the glove hand tangled hair didn't tighten slightly. The roots they tug ache in a dull pain and it just gives you another reason to wish death on everyone here.

_(to him you look like a rabid beast that is pinned on the floor. A wolf among the sheep. He can see your burning glare trained on him like a attack dog.)_

The girl-woman- you attacked is coughing on the floor, hands rubbing at her throat and slowly she curled up facing away from you. 

No one went to her side.

No one went to help this woman.

_(She feels her saliva burning down her throat as she finally swallows it and the tender skin she shields under her hands feel too tender. Just what are you if you could choke her out with one hand and the other waving a glass bottle.)_

**_(she's grateful you didn't use the bottle as a weapon and swing it at her head.)_ **

The MTF are mumbling words into their radios, the static buzz that plays when they press the buttons to talk is loud and it shakes your ear drums.

It's a sound that is familiar to you, in ways you didn't think so but it's that lingering memory of being escorted with Wales Red to a SCP Testing site. The MTF Guards there would always call in to confirm your team is heading over.

Those old memories block what is happening to you as you close your eyes too just relive that time once more. Too forget the bitchy whining the man is doing and how his burly friend may be dead but who cares. You certainly don't care and neither does the MTF Guards if none have moved towards them. You all write him as dead but his buddy is still clinging to him.

It'll shock you if the burly man is still alive somehow.

_(when they feel your tense muscles relax they loosen up their hold just ever so softly, but their black helmet moves up too watch the other D-Class Personnel as they scramble for safety away from the person the Guard holds down)_

You can hear how Julian is complaining from the chilled air, how his thin hands wave around and his smooth face pulls into a sneer. He doesn't glance at you as he says-

_(A guard grabs the dead man and wrestled the bottle out of his palms. "He has a pulse." They confirm out placing the open glass onto the white table before facing the other D-Class that is awake and aware.)_

Nessie is there, by your side her hands are curled around a foam cup, you can already smell the coffee that comes from it. She's saying something to you and Julian but her words are drowned out when the static from the radios overtake her. The sound is loud and it grates on your nerves. It sounds like something terrible, like a texture you hate to touch.

You reopen your eyes when the sudden movement of your MTF Guard has you sitting upright and soon after you find out they've handcuffed you to the chair you sat in. A wiggle from your ankles show they also have your legs cuffed as well. Everyone's words are hushed and whispering to one another. The Guards roughly place the attacked woman back next to you and they shove the man into his seat. "Are we sure they're not going to break out?" The young male D-Class weakly gets out.

The MTF Guards don't answer and instead they place the glass bottle that everyone picked back in-front of them. Your bottle still faintly glows and as you watch the glow dim you hope this thing can really kill you.

You don't think this treatment is something you can get used too at all.

The girl is still hacking up her lungs every so often and when you glare at her she has fresh tears in her blue eyes and the area around her soft face is red. "Sounds like you can use a drink." You sneer pointing at her bottle. With as much effort as she can muster she tries to stifle her coughs. 

It doesn't work.

She still coughs.

A MTF Guard let's out a snicker.

You continue to glare at this bitch.

The words the MTF Guards say to each other is lost on your ears. The vizor they wear block any words you can make out and so you leave them alone, forgotten from your mind as you try to relax. A lot has happened and you don't mean the lady you almost choked trying to shove a unknown bottle into her mouth.

 _(If she just_ let you _do it none of this would've even happened.)_

A tingle like TV static is slowly crawling it's way up your shoulder and it forces you wonder if they dislocated your shoulder in the tussle. But when you roll the shoulder lade nothing pings back in pain. Which, in your book, is fine. It must mean you don't have blood flow and it started to just flow into that shoulder and arm. 

* * *

Nothing else after that shoulder roll is remembered. Next thing you know you're awake at your cell, muscles feeling like they've been bruised and you feel mentally exhausted. As if 12 hours had gone by sleeping in this white cell. Which isn't true since you can remember you attacking the lady and the cold press of tile on your skin.

It doesn't make sense on why you're back here at your cell and why it suddenly feels like this day has already happened. Rolling over onto your right side, legs arching above you do you feel it. When both feet are planted on the cell floor does a sharp striking pain race from the nape of your neck to the back of your skull. It throbs with each heartbeat and it thrums strongly when you move your head.

It's a powerful headache that has you shutting your eyes and gently cradling the back of your neck. 

The pain is white and it's also hot. It speaks of a strike happening there on your tender skin and the bruises that litter you hum in agreement.

Something isn't right with this _painful_ headache. It feels like it belongs to another life. As if it was never meant for _present_ you. The white flashes that flicker in your spine has a strong connection to....someone.

Kneeling over slowly, as to not aggerate the pain any more, you let out a groan. It's dragged out and slow, unlike the fast paced thrums of pain and the numbing snake that slowly coils around your spine.

It follows the arc of your spinal and it flows between the clutches of your skins. All to strike a bite at the base of your skull where the venom of pain floods your system. 

None of this is right and with each flash of searing pain you remember.

* * *

Laying awake, sometime during the night perhaps, do you grimace and hiss every so often. That awful pain in your neck is gone. After 8 hours of that dreadful pain it went away. But in it's place a new pain was birthed. 

You had died that day.

The butt of a gun was smashed into the tender skin of your nap and it had crushed your spine and broke your skull that day.

Your bone was smashed into shards where it punched your brain and your skin around the area was busted and bloomed ruby red. The white tiles on the testing room was stained red as they carelessly dragged your body across the floor after killing you. 

And. . . . now you're here. Waking up as if you didn't feel the butt of a gun cave your head in like a pumpkin. 

None of it is making sense but your body still remembers how it died and it seems like it _still_ thinks that it should be in the inferno. Maybe you should be and yet you aren't. Just another day, whether it was the day _before_ your death or _after_ your death is another question.

With the same sounds as every other day you're not sure. You still have the bruises from that odd dream so it wasn't to far in the past yet there is no way to prove if this isn't some other day after your test. 

Everything is still the same.

_(no, it's not the still the same.)_

You still have the Black Key Card.

_(what if that is the cause for this revival?)_

The sounds from outside your cell is still normal. No screaming.

_(it's too loud yet too quiet outside your cell; it's not normal. You're screaming inside.)_

No one comes to collect you for a few days. You still get collected for the days to shower. In those moments when you stand beside Alex you want to tell her. Yet you never get the bravery to do just that.

Then the fated day comes forth, two days after you take a shower. (Alex had asked about your scar behind your neck and you never answer her.)

* * *

It's the day you are allowed outside of your cell. Two days after a shower day and it was for the experiment with SCP-3151. No one answers you when you decide to ask about the SCP. Every thing is the same like the first time. Before your death, the only thing that really differed was the encounter with SCP-049. He still looks like the grim reaper in his old plague set up. But his broad shoulders are straight and he stands as if he was a king. Not some wild mutt drugged and chained.

_(he stares back at you with those blue eyes and maybe, just maybe between only you and god, do you prefer this time around over the last life.)_

As a set of 4, everyone is filed into the testing room. With the D-Class being unknown yet in a sick and twisted way not being a total stranger to you. Once unhooked from those silver chains and cuffs the other's follow the same route as their past selves. (were they really past selves? Or are you the only past life here.)

In the center of the white testing room is the dreaded table with four chairs for each unlucky D-Class Personnel. With the glass sodas sitting in a neat pile on top.

Everything is the same as the past life. From the D-Class' looks to what they say as they settle into the chairs. Each one picking the same ones as you remember. This time you weren't the last one to walk towards the white table. This time it was the woman you attacked who was stared at with sneers and frowns.

You didn't join in.

"Just sit down already, it's faster to get it over with Ella." The burly man grounded out his arms crossed over his chest.

_("Just sit down already, it's faster newbie." One burly man growled out his arms cross over on top of the table.)_

It's not how you recall it suddenly. Now this woman who settles beside you is more human this time around. You have her name as she gives the man a soft nod, but she doesn't have yours. This isn't how your past life went and this isn't how it was supposed to be. What if things are becoming different and you won't be able to ready yourself this time too.

What if you die and don't wake up again?

At least in the sense you know.

The seat you picked (again) is in front of the much calmer burly man. Like before his hair is too long for his wide face and the cheeks sag forward like you recall. He catches you staring and before he can say anything the words, "Right, sorry. Rude to stare." is making it's way past your lips. Quickly you turn your attention to the bottles that sit on the tables.

The slimmer man is saying his coded words but you don't listen. You mull over the words forced out of your mouth, one's you did and did not say last time. Are you forced to repeat this day then? If certain words are forced to happen and actions are just _meant_ to be played out?

_("Cut them some slack man, they just don't know us is all." The slim man comes forward for your defense but that isn't known to you.)_

_("Cut them some slack man, this is their first time in a test." A slimmer man comes to your defense but that isn't known to you.)_

SCP-3151is still the same. Unchanging even if you had dead and was brought back. The label still reads **'Movie in a Bottle - the Next Stage in the Entertainment Vision from Westhead Media'** and it looks faded with a touch of sun bleach. All of this you already knew. And like a act you've seen to many times the words you know some forth,

_("I think it's a bottle which plays a movie?" You offer, finally glancing up and seeing the shocked faces of the two men and one women. )_

"I think it's a bottle which plays a movie." You offer, looking up and seeing the shocked faced of the men and one women. This is normal, you remember seeing them gaping at you in a odd mixture of fear and shock. It has something deep inside your bone marrow raising it's head. 

Everything from there plays on like a live action show. None of them are real people. They are all actors and you are the sole audience that's seen this show once before and recalls each scene easily. You are the actor's boss who is brushing a fine comb through their movements and you know which act is not the same to the first one.

Which act that doesn't match up the first time makes you worry. You hope it doesn't end with your head caved in at the end as well.

_There,_ right there does things fall into order. When the brute is the first to speak after everyone picked a glass bottle. "Elle I hope you know that certain SCPs can kill you in ways that cannot be explained." He gestures at both you and Elle as if you weren't aware. " _Yours_ looks like it'll boil you." he grunts out as his bottle is the first to be popped open. "I think mine is safe." You mumbled trying to force out a different sentence.

Anything that might change your fate. 

Nothing is different. From the massive swing he takes to his bottle and down to the stiffness when he has a taste of the Movie in a Bottle. To the words Elle shouts out and to the slim man. The other thing that _isn't_ going the same is you.

You watch the other two D-Class panic with a sense of calm. Like it was normal for people to just go unresponsive after sipping on SCP-3151.

There is no craving from the dead researcher inside you. When you ask yourself why there it is, all it gives you is static. No baring teeth and no loud hissing that flows into your mind. You still clutch your SCP-3151 and you still think these two with you are dumb as hell.

Everything plays the same here for a moment. The two are fretting over the man but you just stare back with droopy eyes. Yes, this time things will end differently, lesson learned this time. You wonder what will end up happening now. 

Things are no longer alike and the two paths you had twined together are sprayed at the ends.

Your first dead is now gone and here you are living your newest one with a unknown path ahead. 

The dead researcher inside you is wondering to know

what

will

happen.

_(Either way you will find out even if you have to shove the glass neck down her throat because the researcher inside you demands to know_

_what_

_will_

_happen.)_

**Author's Note:**

> SCP Foundation is a organization meant to Secure. Contain. Protect.
> 
> Anyone who disagrees with this order is to be [REDACTED] at all costs.


End file.
